Always
by Cockapoo
Summary: Fili made Kili a promise, and Thorin made one to them. Family fic - no slash!
1. Always

**A/N: I just watched The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey, and I loved the movie so much that I just had to write this. I haven't decided if this is going to be a oneshot or if I'm writing more, but here it is for now! **

Always

Fili sat up in bed, his ears perking up. He was nearly positive he had heard the sound of the front door opening. Through the closed door of the bedroom he shared with his little brother, the sound of his mother's voice floated into the room. And then he heard another, the one he had been waiting to hear. A deep, gravelly voice. His Uncle!

Scrambling out of bed, the seven-year-old dwarfling suddenly paused, looking back at his lightly snoring brother. Little Kili was only two, and he made Fili feel like the responsible one, the grown-up. Chewing on the inside of his cheek, Fili surveyed his brother, wondering if he should leave him there alone. Kili often had terrible nightmares, and was also scared of the dark. But he was asleep…and Uncle Thorin was in the doorway. Fili made his decision.

"Are the boys asleep?" Thorin asked Dis, his little sister, bending to embrace her.

"Yes," she smiled. "They spent the entire day waiting for you, Thorin. The poor things were so disappointed when you didn't come. You know they love your company."

Thorin raised an eyebrow, hiding his smile. He loved his sister-sons, much more than he would openly admit. He had lost so much – his brother, his father and grandfather, his brother-in-law – but the boys always managed to warm his cracked heart. Even when Kili lured him out into the yard with big innocent brown eyes and promises of a surprise and Fili had been perched up on the roof with a big bucket of icy water to dump over their Uncle. Even when the two had tried to "play" with the sword he had left on the couch and Fili had wound up with a broken foot from accidentally dropping the tip of the blade, the only part the brothers had managed to lift, even when they had combined their efforts. Even when the two boys had tied his hair to the bedpost while he slept at their house one night. And even when Kili had decided that his sleeping Uncle would make the perfect horse to ride while on his journey to defeat the evil white orc, and had given Thorin a backache for the rest of the night from having a two-year-old bouncing energetically up and down on his spine, gripping his hair tightly as reins and howling invented battle cries in his high-pitched baby voice.

"I'll see them tomorrow," Thorin promised. "I brought something for Fili, too." He withdrew a wooden sword from inside his heavy cloak, the perfect size for his young nephew.

"Thorin," Dis sighed, taking the toy weapon.

"He needs to learn," Thorin defended himself. "That boy is my heir, Dis, the sooner he learns to defend himself the better."

"Defend himself! You're going to – to try to make him a warrior!"

"You think he isn't?" Thorin hissed. "He is _my _heir, he has _my _blood in his veins! Our father's blood! Even little Kili will be a warrior one day, and your trying to mollycoddle them will not change anything, Dis!"

"What if they die, Thorin?" His little sister nearly screamed at him. "You know what happened to their father! He gave his life for you, for Erebor! Kili has never even met his father, and I doubt that Fili will even remember his face soon! I don't want to lose my sons the same way! I will not have them die before their time, Thorin, and least of all because of you." She held the sword behind her back, glaring at him. "They are the only family we have left."

Thorin sighed. She was right, in a way, but he was more in the right than she. "Dis," he began, in a slow, calming voice, and stopped when his sister held up a hand. Younger than him she might be, but Thorin respected the fact that _her _children were the ones in question – and that she was a formidable force when angry. When she was three and he'd accidentally-on-purpose broken her favorite doll by practicing his axe-throwing abilities by throwing the doll instead of the axe, Dis had given him a bruise on his shoulder that had gone through a myriad of colors before finally vanishing a month and a half later. She had a right to worry about her sons – especially Kili, who had been born nearly a month premature, the birth brought on by the nearly crippling grief Dis had felt upon finding her husband's dead body on the battlefield at Erebor.

"You can train them," Dis said, her voice flat. She placed the toy sword back in her brother's hands. "But you will leave Kili alone until he is able – you know that he's small for his age. And brother, please…take care of them."

Thorin dropped the sword, taking his sister's hands in his own. "I will," he promised her. "As long as I am able, I will protect them." He offered her a rare smile. "They are like my own, Dis."

"Aye," she whispered, blinking rather rapidly, and suddenly Thorin realized that she had been close to tears.

"Mummy?" a small voice said, and Thorin swore.

"Thorin!" Dis gasped, glaring at him, even as she hurried towards the doorway, picking up a teary-eyed Fili and bringing him back to Thorin.

"Sorry," Thorin muttered. How long had the child been there? How much had he heard?

"Were you and Uncle Thorin fighting?" Fili asked, a tear dripping from his golden eyelashes.

"No, sweetheart, your uncle was just being very silly," Dis smiled, smoothing his sunny hair back, running a finger through the few braids she had added to it.

"You were very loud," he sniffled, and Thorin realized suddenly that they had scared the dwarfling.

"Come here, lad," Thorin said, kneeling down on the floor and holding out his hand, deciding that distracting the boy would be the best option.

Dis put her son down, and Fili knelt by his uncle, an expectant look on his face.

"I made you something," Thorin said, smiling at the look of excitement on his nephews face. "But you have to promise me that you will be careful with it. No using it when you fight with your brother."

"Kili and I don't fight," Fili pouted, "I just have to fix him when he's being silly."

Dis chuckled.

"Of…of course," Thorin said, deciding it was best not to argue with a seven-year-old sleepy dwarf child, especially when his mother was standing two feet away and would have Thorin's head if he upset the child any more. "Here you are, then, Fili. Use it well." He ignored his sister's eye roll, presenting the boy with the wooden sword he had made for him.

"For me?" Fili squeaked, taking the toy weapon slowly. He gazed at it, enraptured, for a few minutes, before flinging himself on his uncle. "Thank you, Uncle Thorin!" Fili had thrown his arms around his uncle's neck, and Thorin winced as the boy accidentally banged the back of his head with the toy.

"You're welcome, lad," Thorin said, awkwardly patting the boy's back. He never felt comfortable showing his affection in front of others, and Dis was currently smirking at him. His sister knew him too well. "Come on now, let's get you to bed."

"But I wanna play! Will you play with me, Uncle Thorin?" Fili gave his uncle his best Kili-face. Although Fili knew he was undeniably cute, Kili had replaced him as the cutest child in the house – because he was smaller, of course. All the adults thought Kili was adorable, and the scheming two-year-old used the knowledge to his full advantage. And it was easier to melt a dwarf's heart of stone when you had big eyes and were only two, and had no knowledge of the big wide world. So Fili pretended he was his brother, giving his uncle the best Kili eyes he could.

"All right," Thorin caved finally, and Fili cheered, flinging his hands in the air and running around the room. Thorin chuckled. If he hadn't known better, he would've thought that Dis had let the boy drink something she shouldn't have – but his nephews were a handful and he knew it. Little Kili was the more rambunctious of the two, but Fili was older and therefore had more stamina. Thorin had a feeling he was going to get tired before the little dwarfling racing around the room.

"So you hold the sword like this," Thorin demonstrated, wrapping Fili's small fingers carefully around the hilt, while Dis watched carefully, waiting for the first opportunity to haul her determined offspring off to bed. "And to parry a blow, you swing – like this. Yes!"

Fili, it turned out, was a natural, and Thorin had just begun to enjoy teaching the boy what to do with the wood in his hand when a loud, high-pitched scream froze them all in place.

"Kili," Fili gasped, and in an instant he had dropped the sword on the ground, wrenched his hand free of his uncle's grip, and flown into the bedroom. His little brother was sitting up in bed, brown hair a mess, tears running down his cheeks. "Kili, what's wrong?"

Fili clambered up onto the bed and pulled the tiny dwarfling close, holding his brother tightly, feeling Kili shaking and hating it. Why did this only happen to Kili? His brother had been born on the battlefield, Fili knew. His mother had gone looking for his father, who had died a hero's death, taking several orcs with him when he had finally gone, and had suddenly been overcome by birth pains. Had Kili seen something when he was born that he shouldn't have? Had his little brother seen the battlefield, and all the blood and gore that Fili, at the age of seven, knew there would have been? Fili hadn't been there – Dis had left him behind with a nanny, safely hidden away from the battle. He wished suddenly that he had followed his mother anyway. Maybe he would have known what haunted his little brother's sleep every night, why the boy couldn't bear to be alone in the dark.

Fili buried his face in his brother's soft hair, humming a lullaby, rocking his baby brother gently. Every time Kili gave another sob, Fili felt a physical pain in his chest, and he tightened his protective hold. "It's okay," he whispered. "I'm here. Nothing is going to hurt you."

"I woked up," Kili gasped finally, his sobs subsiding a little, "And you wasn't there! And I dweamed that a golbin ated you, and then I woked up and you wasn't there, and it was dark and my was scared!" He howled with misery again, burying his face in his big brother's tunic, snuggling close to Fili.

"It's okay," Fili soothed, patting the tiny dwarf's hair, attempting to smoothen the strands and braids that were sticking up in various directions. "Nothing ate me, I'm right here. It was just a bad dream."

Kili looked up at him with big brown eyes, a large tear rolling down his small face. "Stay?" he implored.

"Always," Fili whispered.

Thorin turned away from the brothers in the doorway, feeling pride and love vying for the upper hand in his chest, which suddenly felt tight. He knew in that instant that no matter how crazy they managed to drive him before they had grown – and maybe even after – he would give his life for his sister-sons if he had to. Closing the door softly, he leaned against it, his eyes fluttering shut, his mind replaying their last words.

_Stay? _

_Always. _

**A/N: Reviews? **


	2. Feel Again

**A/N: THANK YOU! Thank you so much, all of you who read, reviewed, favorited, and subscribed! You definitely went above and beyond all my expectations for this story! I did NOT expect all the amazing reviews – so thank you thank you thank you for starting off this new year in such a wonderful way for me! You made my day these past couple days! Oh, and happy 2013 everyone! Here's the next chapter, I hope you like it! **

Feel Again

_My heart is numb…But with you, I feel again…_

_A few months later…_

Thorin stomped into his sister's house, dropping his sword on the couch and taking a drink of water, taking deep breaths of the air that seemed so pure and sweet after the smoky depths of the forge. He was to babysit his nephews for a two while Dis went to visit a friend who was ill. She had declared that the boys would fall sick if she took them with her, and besides, it was good bonding time for Thorin and his sister-sons. So Thorin, unwilling to provoke his sister, had left Balin in charge of the forge for the rest of the afternoon and the morrow, and had arrived at his sister's place.

He glanced around the strangely quiet house, wondering where the boys were, and reminding himself not to curse in front of them, even if they attempted something stupid again. Kili had grown a surprising amount in the past few weeks, and had begun to pick up words faster than anyone had expected. He had shocked his mother during dinner a few days ago by spouting several ancient dwarvish curses he should never have heard in the first place, all with an adorable smile and innocent gaze. Dis had proceeded to lay down a new rule: Anyone who dared to curse in front of her younger son would be incarcerated in her oven for ten minutes. And no one dared to mess with Dis, especially because she was Thorin's sister.

"Uncle Thorin!" Fili came running out of one of the rooms, clutching his wooden sword in one hand. "You're late! Are you going to teach me more today?"

Thorin nodded, smiling at his older nephew. For the past few months he had been teaching Fili swordplay whenever he had a chance, and the boy was a fast learner. Kili, most of the time, had been napping when they practiced, but the boy was taking fewer and fewer of them now. But Thorin decided he could easily keep an eye on both.

A soft impact on his leg startled him, and the dwarf king looked down to see Kili grinning up at him, hugging his boot tightly. "Hello, Kili," he said, reaching down to ruffle the boy's messy brown hair.

"Hi," Kili said shyly, hiding behind the boot. Thorin shook his head. The boy was shy now – within five minutes he would probably be running wild again.

"Can we practice outside?" Fili asked, bouncing up and down on his toes. "Please?"

Thorin nodded, and was following a cheering Fili out the door when he felt his left leg dragging slightly as he walked. Looking down, he saw a small brown head by his foot. He stared, and two big brown eyes stared back at him. "Kili," he groaned, "Kili, get up."

Kili smiled innocently up at his uncle, tightening his grip on the boot. "Walk," he ordered.

Fili appeared in the doorway, laughing when he saw his brother. "He does that all the time," he said. "He'll let go after a while, right, Kili?"

"Right," Kili said happily, not really listening to his brother, but seeing that he was smiling. When he grew up, he was going to be just like Fili. But with brown hair. And a better sense of fun. All Fili wanted to do nowadays was wave around the wooden stick that Kili wasn't allowed to touch. Boring.

Thorin rolled his eyes and walked out into the neighboring orchard that Fili was waiting in, swishing the sword through the air in random patterns, dragging Kili along on his ankle, the little dwarfling giggling happily as he went.

"Alright, Kili, that's enough," Thorin said in his no-nonsense tone as he neared Fili, and his darker-haired nephew immediately bounced up and scurried over to his big brother, trying to grab the sword from him. "Kili!" Thorin boomed, seeing a crisis in the immediate future and seeking to avert it before Dis murdered him. "Don't touch that, boy."

Fili snickered, holding the toy higher up in the air so that Kili couldn't reach it, even when he jumped. "You're too little," he teased. "You have to grow up before you can use this."

"Fili," Thorin said in a warning tone, seeing Kili's smile vanish and be replaced with big eyes and quivering lips, "Don't tease your brother. Kili, you can have one soon, alright? How about you play for a little while?"

Kili gave Thorin a severely disappointed look and plonked himself down at the base of a tree, plucking at a dandelion he'd picked.

"Can we start?" Fili asked eagerly, extending the sword to Thorin, who nodded, holding his nephew's wrist and correcting his grip.

Kili watched them from the grass, bored. How was he supposed to "play?" His uncle had stolen his playmate anyway, and playing alone was hardly any fun. Tilting his head back, he noticed several bright red apples hanging from the tree, and felt a grin spread over his face. He had an idea.

Thorin reached into his cloak, pulling out a wooden sword identical to Fili's, except slightly larger. Kneeling, he began to spar with the boy, shouting out commands as he did so. "Duck! Now block, strike, stab, parry – move your feet, Fili! Staying still will get you injured!"

Fili began dancing around his uncle, swiping the sword through the air, but no matter what he did Thorin blocked his every advance. Frustrated, Fili began a frenzied attack on his uncle, the blade flying nearly everywhere as he vented his fury.

And suddenly, the sword was out of his hands, and Thorin's was pointed straight at him. "Never," Thorin said slowly, to make sure his panting nephew understood each word, "Never ever get angry during a fight. You become rash, reckless, and your enemy automatically gains the upper hand. You _must _keep a cool head, no matter how angry you are." He paused, waiting. If Fili didn't understand a word, he usually asked, but the boy said nothing. "Now, let's try again," Thorin said, handing Fili his sword, hilt first.

As Fili took it from him, Thorin suddenly recognized the look on his nephew's face: disappointment. He cleared his throat. "You – you're doing well, lad," he assured the boy softly. "You are very talented with the sword. But you must learn to control your emotions."

Fili smiled, reverting back to the carefree dwarfling he was. "Okay! Can we start?"

As Thorin swung his own toy sword back up, his eyes swept the ground for his other, tinier nephew, and he froze, his heart suddenly thumping wildly. "Fili," he said slowly, still searching, "Where's your brother?"

With a thud, Fili's sword landed on the grass as he stared around. And then, instinctively, he looked up. "There!" he shouted, pointing. Kili was perched on the lowest tree branch, and Thorin thanked the gods that the tree had only sparse leaves. At least he could see his nephew.

"Good catch, Fili," he murmured, ruffling the boy's golden hair. "Kili!" Thorin shouted, raising his voice. "Come down at once!"

The little boy regarded him for a moment, swinging his small legs. "Won't!" Kili beamed happily.

Thorin stared, shocked. _Never _had anyone disobeyed a direct order from Thorin Oakenshield! And now this. Fili giggled. Thorin glared at him.

"He likes to climb," Fili informed his uncle. "He usually doesn't get higher than Mum's dresser, though." He surveyed his brother for a moment, and then yelled, "Kili! Uncle Thorin says to come down."

Kili giggled and suddenly reached up, climbing two branches higher before hooking his ankles together and flipping himself, so that he was hanging upside-down from the branch.

"KILI!" Thorin roared, furious. What if the boy fell? He could break his little neck! "Kili, don't make me come get you!" It was a bluff, of course. Thorin had a feeling that none of those branches could take his weight, but he was pretty good at scaring people when he wanted to. So encouraging a baby dwarf to come down couldn't be too hard, right?

Wrong. His younger nephew raised his eyebrows in an uncanny imitation of his uncle, scowling like Thorin for a moment before his innocent smile replaced it. "Later!" he sang out, his upper body curving up to meet his feet as his hands grasped the branch his ankles were snagged onto, pulling himself up again. Kili climbed like a squirrel, eyes only on the target. No missteps. Minutes later, he was much higher up, crawling out towards the middle of a branch and plucking an apple.

Thorin watched in horror as Kili scaled the tree with effortless ease, his heart in his mouth. "Kili, come down!" he nearly screamed, but the boy ignored him. What if his nephew fell? If he died? Thorin would never forgive himself – but what could he do? He was too heavy to climb up, and Kili was refusing to come down.

A flash of movement by his side made him look down, and Thorin grabbed Fili's tunic and held him back. Fili had been thinking along the same lines as his uncle – and had realized that he could go up, while Thorin could not.

"I can get him! Let go!" Fili attempted to wrench himself from Thorin's hand, but his uncle was much larger and stronger than him.

"No! One of you in danger is enough," Thorin hissed, and Fili stared at his uncle. Was he…worried? His Uncle Thorin, who was never afraid, even when facing the white orc, had fear showing clearly in his eyes.

"Kili!" Thorin roared, his free hand stretched out towards the small figure high up in the tree. "Don't you dare go any further! Come down!"

Silence.

And then a bright red apple sailed down and landed in Thorin's open, outstretched palm, the dwarf's fingers curling automatically over the fruit. "What the…" Thorin stared at the missile, and then back up at his nephew's miniature figure in the tree, which he could barely see through the leaves. How on earth had Kili been able to perfectly aim the projectile from so high up, through the leaves, and onto such a small target? And then his mind fixated on the original problem: so high up.

"Stay here," Thorin ordered Fili, clearly making up his mind on the spot. "I'm going to the Forge – maybe Balin or Bofur can help…Stay on the ground, you hear me?"

Fili nodded earnestly, and Thorin seemed reassured by the boy's smile. "I'll be right back," he whispered, before hurrying away. Maybe they had a ladder in the forge…a very large ladder. How on earth had Kili climbed the tree anyway? Dwarves were meant to be on the ground or under it, damn it!

The moment Thorin had left, Fili dashed to the trunk of the tree, looking up. Kili wasn't climbing any higher, nor was he coming down. "Kili!" Fili shouted, worried. His little brother being so quiet was unusual…and Thorin had left by now. So why wasn't he responding, why wasn't he coming down? Was he hurt up there? Had he twisted his wrist or ankle?

In another second, Fili had put his foot on the tree, bracing himself, and begun to climb, cursing his little brother with the limited vocabulary he had picked up from eavesdropping on the dwarves' conversations after dinner when he was supposed to be asleep with every step. How Kili had made climbing a tree look so easy was beyond him. Every few minutes Fili stopped, trying to figure out where the best foothold would be, which was the easiest way up.

"Kili, can you come down?" Fili called up.

No response, but he could see the dark-haired dwarfling up above him. Not too far now…but far enough.

Reaching up for the next branch, Fili hauled himself up. "Are you hurt, Kili?"

No response.

Couple more branches…As Fili neared his brother, he could hear him snuffling above him, shifting as he came closer. And then he swung himself up onto Kili's branch, thankfully a thick one.

"Kili, are you hurt?" Fili demanded, coming close to Kili's huddled up form.

His brother shook his dark head, looking up at him.

"Come on, let's go down."

Gripping the branch tightly with both hands, hooking his ankles around the base, Kili glanced down at the ground, and then up at Fili. "We gon' die!" he wailed, fear evident in his gaze.

Fili groaned. Obviously, Kili had done the unintelligent thing and had failed to look before climbing. "If you knew it was so high, why did you come up?" he snapped.

Kili pointed despairingly at a shiny red apple hanging above Fili's head.

Rolling his eyes, Fili plucked it and handed it to Kili, who clutched it with both hands as if it was the Arkenstone itself, smiling tentatively at his older brother. Sighing, Fili looked down at the ground. He couldn't blame Kili, really – after all, he was practically a baby still, and Kili was rash and reckless by nature. He grinned suddenly, remembering how Thorin had warned him to keep his emotions at bay while sword-fighting. His uncle was going to have lots of fun trying to teach Kili. Fili made a mental note to be present every time Uncle Thorin tried to give Kili some training.

"Let's go down," Fili suggested, fighting a grin as Kili huddled back into a tiny ball with a mop of dark hair, shaking his head firmly.

"No."

"Scared?" Fili teased, nudging Kili with his shoulder. "It's okay."

Kili raised his head, staring at him. "You scared?"

Fili shook his head. "Only a little." _A lot more than you know, brother. Dwarves were meant to stay on the ground! Why did you have to climb the tree? _But he didn't say it. It wouldn't help at all – and besides, he was more scared of Kili falling than of climbing down. His mother had cured Fili of his fear of heights – at least partially.

"But we so high!"

"When I was your age," Fili told his terrified brother, "Whenever I was being bad, Mum would put me on top of her dresser and leave me there for some time. I used to be so scared of being off the ground. And then once she'd left some cookies out on the table, and I really wanted them. Really badly." He glanced over at Kili, who was watching him, fascinated, and smiled. "I wanted them so badly I told myself I would do whatever it took, and I climbed down and took some." Fili grinned. "Mum never did figure out where half those cookies went. I was back on the dresser when she came back."

Kili giggled, and then stared at Fili, his eyes wide. "You was scared?"

Fili nodded, aware that he might be relinquishing his title as super-powerful-never-afraid-all-knowing older brother, but deciding that getting Kili down unharmed was the priority. But instead of gloating over finally finding out that his brother had been scared of something, Kili shuffled closer and put his arms around Fili's middle, butting him lightly with his head.

"We go down?" Kili asked, with some trepidation.

Fili nodded again, patting Kili's soft hair when his brother clung to him tightly. "We go down."

When Thorin returned to the orchard with a long rope in his hands, Balin in tow, he found Fili climbing down from the tree, Kili on his back, his arms wound tightly around his brother's neck.

"The lads seem to be all right," Balin smiled. "I'll be heading back to the forge then, aye?" Patting Thorin's shoulder, he walked away, his eyes twinkling. He would have loved to watch Thorin's reaction, but knew that his king would appreciate some privacy when dealing with the boys.

Thorin approached them slowly, not too sure what to say – or who to yell at first. Kili's sharp ears picked up the sound of his uncle's footsteps and he twisted around, shrinking back at Thorin's glowering expression.

"You both could have died!" Thorin snarled, making Fili jump and Kili burst into tears, and then, without even knowing what he was doing, he reached out, pulling both his nephews into a tight embrace, crushing them to him, feeling Fili cuddling into his side and Kili bawling into his shoulder.

Thorin knelt, pulling away from them both slightly, looking Kili in the eyes.

"I sorry, Uncle," Kili yowled, tears falling fast. "Please don't leave us!"

"I thought I was going to lose you," Thorin said softly, stroking Kili's hair, pulling a leaf out of the brown strands. "I won't leave you, either of you, ever," he promised. "But you have to promise me something in return. Especially you, Kili."

"What?" Fili asked, over Kili's renewed crying – although this time, it was largely from relief.

"Don't you ever scare me like that again," Thorin said, clasping them to him again, still feeling his heart thudding from the moment he'd returned and seen both of them up in the tree, convinced they were going to fall. He had thought he would have to lift their broken bodies from the ground, thought Fili would never get to hold a real sword and become the true warrior he yearned to be, thought Kili would never give him that impish smile and adoring look again. He shook his head, trying to banish the thoughts. They were both safe, and very much alive, and Thorin could feel the relief and love for his nephews flooding through him.

"Wan' go home," Kili declared after a few moments. "Hungry." He had dropped the apple Fili had given him in favor of holding on to his brother as he climbed down.

Thorin rolled his eyes, standing up, lifting Fili with one arm and Kili with the other. "Home is far away from here," he murmured softly, seeing moments later that Fili understood him and Kili was utterly bamboozled. "Let's go," he agreed, pressing a kiss to each small forehead.

Balin peered out from behind a tree, grinning. Thorin was never going to live this down.

**A/N: Reviews? Suggestions for a future chapter? If you review, you get to find out how the rest of the babysitting session goes that much faster ;)**


	3. All That Is Gold Does Not Glitter

**A/N: Hi everyone! Again, thank you sooo much everyone who reviewed! You guys make me so happy! I have baked you all virtual brownies (and I make killer brownies, trust me)! Enjoy! Thank you also all my readers and those who favorited and subscribed. **

**This chapter…I don't really know what happened. It was supposed to be shorter, I promise :P **

**But I really hope you like it, because I don't know what to make of it! **

All That Is Gold Does Not Glitter

Thorin paused outside the closed door, hearing his nephews whispering on the other side. One of Dis's friends had given the boys their dinner – apparently Dis hadn't trusted him with that or doing the dishes afterwards – so he had spent a few hours at the forge, pitying the poor woman. She probably hadn't had any idea what she was in for, Dwalin had said, laughing. Thorin's nephews were famous for their behavior, but were loved anyway, especially because dwarf women and therefore children were so scarce.

Pushing the door open, he went in to find feathers flying everywhere – the boys had decided that a pillow fight was in order. He opened his mouth to call a halt, but raised his eyebrows in shock when he saw Kili wearing one of his old shirts, which was nearly twice the boy's length. Kili's hands reached almost to the elbow of the sleeves, and it dragged around after him as he moved, nearly swamping him in soft blue fabric.

"Kili," he said, stopping both of them mid-movement – Fili was frozen comically with a pillow poised precariously over Kili's head, and Kili was flopped over on his back from a particularly powerful whack from his older brother – "Where did you get that?"

Kili turned around to look behind him, wondering what on earth his nutty uncle was talking about. He wasn't holding anything!

"Mum thought he looked cute in it," Fili supplied, smirking at his idiot brother, who was now peering inside the pillowcase.

Thorin sighed. Dis had never made any sense to him, but he wasn't going to take it up with her. And he had to admit that Kili looked rather sweet in it, although dreadfully tiny.

"What?" Kili finally demanded plaintively. If he was going to be blamed for something, he at least wanted to have the fun of doing it first!

"Nothing," Thorin said, winking at Fili, who beamed at him. "Come on now, get in bed."

"Tell us a story," Fili begged, not moving. "Please?"

"Hmm," Thorin stroked his short beard, pretending to consider it.

"Pwease?" Kili pressed up against his side, clasping his hands together pitifully.

"Get in, and I'll tell you," Thorin conceded. "What story do you want?"

Fili had slipped in under the covers, but didn't respond, to busy giggling at Kili's method of getting into bed, which involved crawling face-first under the covers, turning around on his hands and knees underneath them, and then wriggling back up, his little face barely clearing the edge of the sheets, smiling expectantly at his uncle.

"When you were little!" Fili shouted excitedly. He'd always wondered whether his uncle had ever done anything silly (which he seriously doubted, because Thorin was always so serious) – here was a perfect chance to find out.

"I was never little!" Thorin protested, hiding a smile. The response was instantaneous. Fili shouted, "Yes you were!" and Kili slammed two tiny fists on the bed, a stony expression on his face, which only made him look cuter, and therefore significantly less threatening than he wanted to be.

"Okay, okay," Thorin grinned, kicking off his boots – Dis would kill him if he started teaching his sister-sons bad habits – and making himself comfortable on the bed, settling between the brothers so he had one arm around each. "Have I told you about the time my brother and I decided to explore?"

"No," Fili said excitedly, leaning in to his uncle.

"I was about your age, Fili," Thorin began, stroking the golden hair lightly. "Maybe a year older. Frerin was a year younger than me, and I think Dis was about Kili's age at that time. Frerin and I had nothing to do, really, because my father had declared that we were too young to be training with weapons, so most of our time was ours. And he had the genius idea to go exploring.

We started with a tunnel we were familiar with, and got through it as quickly as possible, because we knew at least one of the dwarves working in there would report to our father that his sons were running around in the tunnels unsupervised – without a guardian," he explained, as Kili frowned. "We eventually reached a fork in the road. One of the tunnels had fires glowing in it further down, and the other was dark. Frerin ran down the dark one before I could stop him."

"He sounds like you, Kili," Fili grinned at his brother, who protested instantly.

"No!" Kili shouted, glaring over Thorin at Fili. He gave Thorin a hurt look.

"He wasn't nearly as bad as the two of you," Thorin chuckled. "He got into scrapes all the time, yes, but you boys take the cake."

"Cake?" Kili repeated excitedly, looking around wildly with his hair flying, making Fili bang his head against the headboard in exasperation.

"It's an expression," Thorin said, fighting the laughter inside him. But he had a feeling Kili knew – the boy eyed him suspiciously before lying down again. "Anyway, he suddenly remembered that he had matches in his pocket."

"Why?" Fili asked. Who carried matches in their pocket all the time?

"He was a little odd," Thorin smirked. "And he liked to play with fire. He'd tried to set fire to a gold statue my mother had once, just to see what would happen. He was grounded for a month for that one. But anyway, we lit a match and kept going down, and every time one went out, we'd light another. He'd had quite a stash with him. And then we noticed something. There was something shiny poking out from behind the rock on the wall of the tunnel.

Now, it turned out Frerin had planned for all this. He had a stick of dynamite in his pocket too – which is a very bad idea, boys," Thorin warned, seeing the two exchange conspiratorial looks that they thought he hadn't noticed. "If you ever try this I'm never going to tell you a story again."

"We won'!" Kili shouted, panicked. "Promise!"

"What did you find?" Fili inquired, deciding that Kili was not handling the situation well – why promise when they could have so much fun doing it? Better to distract Uncle Thorin.

"Diamond," Thorin said in a hushed whisper, remembering how excited he and his brother had been, grinning when Kili gasped audibly. "A treasure trove of diamond! We were so proud of ourselves – and our father definitely would be too!" A bit of the old excitement crept back into his voice. "We were so sure he would be proud. He would let us train with weapons, right? Instead of waiting till we were twenty?"

"Right," Fili said, hoping Thorin would apply that to him.

Thorin gave Fili a wary glance, knowing what the boy was thinking. "Fili," he sighed, "You're only seven, lad. You're much too small to be handling a blade yet – you wouldn't even be able to lift it."

"I could too," Fili pouted, crossing his arms. "You just won't even let me try, how do you know?"

"Because I tried it when I was seven," Thorin answered quietly. "I dropped the blade and gave myself a huge cut on my leg that wouldn't heal for nearly two months. I don't want that to happen to you."

"It won't!" Fili shouted. "Why can't you let me try?"

"You're a child!" Thorin growled. "Until you have grown enough to be able to handle a weapon without hurting yourself, I will not allow you near one, is that clear? And if you can't accept that, I won't let you into the forge either!"

Fili was staring at the wall opposite, willing himself not to cry. Was he really asking so much? He didn't even talk like a baby anymore – _Kili_ was the baby! _He_ was grown up! How was he supposed to become a great warrior like his uncle if they wouldn't let him near a sword?

Thorin glared at his nephew, wondering how to make him understand, when he felt a light weight on his legs. Glancing down, he saw Kili crawling across him in the oversized shirt, determinedly heading for Fili. Thorin's hands twitched as he considered arresting Kili in motion – Fili probably wasn't in the mood for any jokes – but he let the boy be, wondering what he was doing.

Kili clambered over the mountain known to the world as Uncle Thorin's legs and shuffled next to his brother, taking a few minutes to crawl under the sheets and then twist around till he was the right way up. "Fiwi sad?" he inquired, studying his brother's face. He knew the signs. Fiwi was sad. Without waiting for a reply, Kili did the only thing he could – he snuggled up against Fiwi and hugged his midsection tightly. "Kiwi here," he mumbled softly. "Kiwi here."

Fili gave a rather wet chuckle, feeling a tear slide down his cheek. He remembered the first time Kili had tried to pronounce his name and had called him "Fiwi" instead. His brother had always had trouble pronouncing "l" sounds. He had hated it, angrily retaliating by calling Kili "Kiwi," and the youngster had cried up a storm, wailing that he was not a brown hairy fruit, which Fili had declared he was, and Dis had ended up having to interfere. But now Kili was calling himself "Kiwi" – his brother seriously needed help. And not just with his talking, which was slowly improving.

Thorin watched as Fili's arms wound slowly around the little shape next to him, holding his brother tightly. He felt an ache in his chest – he missed Frerin suddenly, terribly, and found himself hoping that whatever happened, these two precious lads next to him were never forced to live without the other. He knew only too well how deep the wound would cut – and they were closer to each other than he had been to Frerin, which was saying something.

"Finish story," Kili demanded, his voice muffled by Fili's shirt.

"We shouted till someone came running," Thorin said hoarsely, trying to hide the emotion in his voice. "The dwarves who had been excavating nearby – yes, Kili?" The dwarfling had just patted Thorin's arm frantically.

"Wha' does exvac – esca – efcav – that word mean?"

"Excavating?" Thorin chuckled when the boy nodded so hard it seemed his head would part company with his neck. "It means to…to delve into the rock."

Kili looked even more confused.

"Breaking rock to find stuff," Fili clarified, from Kili's other side.

"Ohhh." Kili settled back down, sucking his thumb. Fili pulled it gently out of his mouth, and Kili sent him a glare, sticking it back in.

"Continue?" Fili gave Thorin an expectant glance, one still tinged with hurt.

"They cleared the rubble," Thorin said, "But while they were coming, I noticed that my head was feeling light…and I was very dizzy. I woke up in my room a week later."

Fili burst out laughing, but Kili cocked his head, puzzled.

"When you set dynamite," Thorin explained, "You have to stand back, as far as you can, before the fuse blows – before it explodes. We didn't, and I had a piece of shrapnel – debris – broken rock," he simplified, before Kili could ask, "stuck in my shoulder. Frerin was grounded for a month, and I was too, after I had healed." He paused. "So, boys, the moral of the story –"

"Is to take a light when you explore tunnels, and to always stand back when you light dynamite," Fili finished, smirking as Thorin glared at him.

"Oh." Kili nodded wisely, and Thorin smacked a fist into his forehead.

"No, Kili, that is _not _the moral of the story," Thorin said wearily. Fili – and his brother – were going to be the death of him one day.

"Do you has dymanite?" Kili asked innocently.

"No," Thorin lied. "Why would I?" _Don't you dare go looking_, he added mentally, sending Fili a stern look, knowing that the older boy wouldn't fall for his lie as the younger had. Fili gave him an angelic smile, and he sighed. "Go to sleep, lads."

"Unca Thorin?"

"Yes, Kili?"

"Sing a song?"

Thorin raised his eyebrows. "I don't sing, Kili."

"Pwease? Mummy awways sings at night. Pwease?" Kili was begging, and he heard Fili snicker a little behind him. Adults nearly always gave in when Kili begged.

Thorin closed his eyes, pretty convinced that Dis was giving him payback for something he'd done to irritate her. She probably knew they would extort stories and songs from him. Thankfully none of the other dwarves were watching this.

"Please?" Fili added, his blue eyes wide and pleading above Kili's messy brown head.

Thorin groaned. "All right, now let me think of one." Dis probably sang them lullabies at night, but he didn't know any – that wasn't part of the job description for a prince, warrior, or king! And she would not approve if he sang to them of fierce battles and terrible foes. Kili's nightmares were growing fewer, but he still woke often in the middle of the night, crying. An in-depth description of the many battles he had seen would probably scare the boy farther. Thorin had never given his nephews a clear description of orcs or goblins or wargs or anything else, and he wasn't going to start now.

"What has your mother told you boys about Erebor?" he asked finally, his eyes finding Fili's.

"It was lost," Fili answered quietly, his eyes telling Thorin that he understood how important Erebor was to his uncle – and how painful.

"It runned away?" Kili inquired, tugging at Thorin's sleeve.

"Cities don't run away, Kili," Fili said, his tone disparaging, and Kili slumped down, hurt.

Thorin sent Fili a warning glance. Even if Fili didn't notice or didn't care for it, he knew how easily influenced Kili was by his brother – one sharp word from Fili hurt the lad more than an hour-long lecture from Dis.

"It was a magnificent city," he said quietly. "Beautiful. And filled with the wealth of our people. Gold, diamonds, emeralds, sapphires…and our home, all were lost. But one day, we will reclaim our home, and what is rightfully ours."

A quiet little snore made him look around; Kili was dozing against his arm. Fili gave his brother a little shake, waking him. How could Kili fall asleep when they were hearing about Erebor, a subject that Dis always shied away from?

"How was it lost?" Fili asked, hoping he would finally get to hear the story.

"Wha' was lost?" Kili mumbled, rubbing his tired eyes.

"A dragon," Thorin said softly. "A dragon drove us from our home. But soon we will return to it."

"And get the treasure!" Fili was kneeling, his eyes shining.

Thorin smiled. "Yes, like this." Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a cut and polished diamond, as large as Kili's fist. "This is a piece of the diamond hoard that Frerin and I found," he said, passing it to an awed Fili. "This is an example of what awaits us inside Erebor."

"Wow," Fili whispered, holding up the diamond so it caught the candlelight. "Kili, look!"

Kili gazed blearily at the sparkly stone in his brother's hand, not really interested. "Sparkwy," he said. Then he looked up at Thorin, remembering something. "Wha' does a drag'n look like?"

"Monstrous," Thorin remembered. "Huge. Great big wings, an combination of colors. I can still remember the dragon-fire in the sky, our beautiful city taken over, our people fleeing in fear –" He broke off, seeing Kili's eyes widen, praying he hadn't just scared the boy.

But he needn't have worried. "'M a dragon, Fiwi!" Kili yowled, pouncing on his brother, attempting to roar. It sounded like a cat when its tail was stepped on, Thorin reflected with a grin.

"You're too tiny," Fili laughed, wrestling with the determined toddler. "I'm a bigger dragon, see?" He lifted Kili into the air and dropped him back onto the bed, snickering when Kili tried to stand and tripped over Thorin's shirt.

The diamond lay on the bed, forgotten.

"All right, that's enough," Thorin said finally, lifting Kili off Fili's shoulders. "Kili, let go of your brother's hair – and Fili, if you keep holding his arm like that you're going to hurt him." It took a few minutes to distangle them – Kili had managed to intricately knot several of Fili's braids together, a feat that seemed nearly impossible when Thorin studied the tiny hands. Apparently the boy had rather dexterous fingers.

Taking a breath, Thorin began to sing softly, his deep voice the only sound in the house.

_Far over the misty mountains cold_

_ To dungeons deep, and caverns old_

_ We must away, ere break of day_

_ To claim our long forgotten gold_

_ The pines were roaring on the height_

_ The winds were moaning in the night_

_ The fire was red, it flaming spread_

_ The trees like torches blazed with light_

For a moment all three of them were quiet, Thorin because he was remembering the home and kingdom he had lost and the trying times that came after, Fili because he was wondering whether he would be allowed to go on the quest to reclaim Erebor one day, and Kili because he was wondering if he was really too small to be a dragon, and the song had made him sleepy. Uncle Thorin was a good singer.

"You sings good, Unca Thorin," Kili complimented, breaking the solemn silence.

"Thank you, Kili." Thorin took a few strands of brown hair in his hands, adding a slender braid to his nephew's hair.

"Uncle Thorin," Fili said, "Are you going back to Erebor soon?"

"I will someday," Thorin replied, his fingers still busy with Kili's hair. "Kili, hold still, lad."

"Can I come?"

Thorin looked up at Fili, feeling Kili go still against him. "Fili," he said carefully, and got no further.

"Will you wait till I'm old enough to come too?" Fili begged. "Please? I –"

"It will be dangerous," Thorin said quietly. "I'll see if you can come, but Fili, you don't have to go on a quest to prove yourself. We love you for who you are."

Fili's eyes widened for a moment at the last statement, and then his head drooped as he remembered the rest of what his uncle had said. "I just want to be like you," he confessed.

"You are," Thorin said, feeling a mixture of pride, love, and pain squeezing his chest. "Both of you. More than you know."

Kili startled them both by sniffling.

"Kili, is something wrong?" Thorin bent over to see his little nephew's face.

But Kili's words were not for him. "You go wifout me, Fiwi?" Kili wailed, turning to face his brother. "You leaves me here?"

Fili instantly wrapped his arms around Kili's diminutive form, pulling him close, shushing him. "No, I won't go anywhere without you."

"I comes too?" Kili was hopeful.

Fili didn't even look to Thorin for permission. "Yes, Kiwi. You're coming too."

"We gon' go he'p Unca Thorin!" Kili proclaimed happily, tears forgotten.

Fili grinned, bending to whisper in his brother's ear. "And we're going to drive him crazy too."

"I heard that," Thorin warned, unable to hide a smile.

Moments later, Kili had begun to snore again, his little arms draped over Fili, whose eyelids had begun to droop. Thorin sat with them both, watching the older boy fall asleep too, his face pressed against Kili's head. He blew out the candles, making to leave, when something struck his foot. It was the diamond he had shown them earlier, which had fallen to the floor.

Thorin picked it up, weighing it in his hand, listening to Fili's steady breathing and Kili's soft snores. It was cold against his fingers, and he recalled his surprise when the boys had discarded the diamond so quickly, preferring to play with each other instead of stare at the sparkly gem.

Even if he did let them come on his quest one day, Thorin knew he would rather lose all the gold in Erebor than lose his sister-sons. They had taught him something, he realized suddenly, as he watched them sleep peacefully. Family was the only treasure they understood – and it was the only one with truly any worth.

**A/N: Reviews, please? School is starting very very soon for me, so the more reviews I get the more I will be motivated to write, and the faster you can have the next chapter! Thank you for reading, PLEASE take a second to leave me something in the box below – even a smiley face works! I have a lot of silent readers, please say something today! I need it – I'm all depressed about school starting :P**

**Thanks for reading, see you all soon! xxx**


	4. Just A Dream

**A/N: Hello, beautiful people! A BIG THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO REVIEWED LAST CHAPTER! I – I don't even know what to say to you. I think I have the best readers in the universe! Thank you so much! You guys made me smile throughout this entire week! I'm so sorry about taking so long to update – school and work suck. But I promise I am not abandoning this story. It's just going to take me longer than usual to update. So, of course, the more reviews I get, the harder I will try to find time to write, and the faster you get an update. Also, thank you everyone who subscribed and favorited! I hope you all enjoy this chapter…I'm not very fond of it, so please tell me what you think!**

Just A Dream

Thorin sat with his pipe in one hand and his axe on his knees, stroking the blade with the other, staring into the fire. A cup of strong black coffee was on the table behind him, but he made no movement to reach for it. All he wanted to do was pray to Aulë that his sanity lasted until Dis returned home in the evening. Lovable though his nephews were, sometimes he wanted to tie them to separate chairs and leave them each in a corner, facing the wall.

A yawn behind him made him turn, and he saw Fili rubbing his eyes in the doorway, his golden hair mussed from sleep. "Morning, Fili," Thorin said, watching the dwarfling's eyes brighten instantly.

"Good morning," Fili sang out, running barefoot over to his uncle. "Wow!" His little hands reached out for the axe, but Thorin pulled it out of the boy's reach.

"Fili," he said, his tone a warning.

"Can't I just touch it?" Fili pleaded. "Please? Just once?"

"Fine," Thorin relented, "But don't touch the blade. I just sharpened it."

Fili ran a finger over the smooth wood of the handle, over the runes engraved in it, and over the royal crest before letting the palm of his hand drift over the axe's head. "Did you make this, Uncle Thorin?"

"Yes."

"Will you teach me?" Fili asked eagerly, and Thorin smiled in spite of himself.

"Yes, Fili, I will. When you're old enough." Thorin glanced out the window – dark clouds were gathering overhead. Leaning forward, he stoked the fire, not wanting Fili to fall sick from the cold. The boy was still barefoot, for Aulë's sake! "Fili," he began, and then realized something. Only Fili was with him…"Where's Kili?"

"Asleep," Fili answered promptly.

Thorin raised his eyebrows. "He follows you around everywhere, but he's asleep?"

"He's impossible to wake up," Fili complained. "Mum always makes me do it because he won't even listen to her. I think Kili could sleep through an orc raid!"

"I hope neither of you ever have to experience one," Thorin muttered, drawing Fili close and putting his arm around the small shoulders. "Will you go wake him, lad?"

Fili groaned. "Can't you?"

"Is it that difficult?"

"Yes!"

"He's your brother," Thorin chuckled. "You wake him." He gave Fili a little push towards the doorway, grinning at the boy's annoyed expression. "And get dressed, both of you. Fili, that includes shoes. You're going to fall sick in this weather if you don't wear any."

Fili slouched back into the hallway, grousing to himself.

"Don't slouch!" Thorin shouted after him, and Fili rolled his eyes. So what if Kili was his brother? Why did he, Fili, have to go wake the little monster? Every day, it was the same old story. It was as if every adult in the universe was scared of a two-year-old baby dwarf! Pushing open the door to their room, Fili checked on his little brother. Sure enough, the tiny devil was snoring softly, his mouth wide open, eyes shut tightly and moving behind the lids. Dreaming.

Through the window, Fili inspected the dark, heavy clouds and the trees bending to the wind, and had an idea. Maybe if he made it cold enough in the room, Kili would wake up! Dragging one of the bedside tables to beneath the window, Fili climbed onto it and, with a grunt, pushed the window open, gasping as a wall of frigid air slammed into him.

But Kili just burrowed deeper into the covers and snored on.

Fili grabbed his brother and shook him. "Kili! Wake up!" But it didn't matter how loud Fili yelled – his little brother stuck his thumb in his mouth, curled up into a ball, and slept on.

Frustrated, Fili grabbed Kili's ankles and lifted his brother clear off the bed, holding him upside down in the air. "Wake up!" he shouted again, and was rewarded by movement.

"Fiwi," Kili groaned sleepily, kicking his little legs slightly before returning his thumb to his mouth. Fili dropped him angrily back onto the bed – he was only seven, after all, and his arms couldn't take Kili's weight for too long.

Fili sat back on his heels, sneezing, wondering how to wake Kili up. And then he remembered something: his little brother was very, very ticklish. Smirking, he leaned forward. This would probably take all of five seconds.

Thorin nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard screams coming from inside.

"Stop it! Fiwi, stop! 'M up! 'M up! Stop!" Kili was howling, and Thorin dropped his axe and pipe onto the table, standing up. What on earth was Fili doing to his little brother? He rushed inside, slumping against the doorframe in relief when he saw Fili trapping Kili down, tickling him. He'd been afraid something far worse had happened.

"Unca Thorin, he'p me!" Kili shouted, breathless with laughter, wriggling as Fili kept him pinned.

"I woke him up!" Fili beamed at his uncle, letting go of Kili as he hopped off the bed.

"No fair," Kili grumbled, rubbing his eyes. He sneezed, the force of it knocking him backwards onto the bed. Fili giggled.

"Why is it so cold?" Thorin turned, and his jaw dropped when he saw the open window. Striding over, he slid it shut, noticing the table that was innocently standing beneath the window. It hadn't been there last night, he remembered. "Fili," he said sternly, turning to the boy, "Did you open this window?"

Fili nodded, his face unusually serious. He had a feeling he was in big trouble. But his uncle was kneeling by the fireplace, and within moments flames sprang up, warming the room.

"Fili, get dressed," Thorin ordered, trying to hide his worry. The boy had better not fall sick. "And Kili –" He had to smile when he saw the baby dwarf snuggled up in the blankets, sitting up with the covers wrapped tightly around his little body so that only his face was visible. Apparently at least one of his two crazy nephews had the sense to stay warm. "Kili, you need to get dressed too, lad."

Kili observed his uncle for a moment. Uncle Thorin appeared to be serious about getting up and getting dressed, but Kili had no intention of going anywhere. He was warm where he was, thank you very much. Giving Thorin his cutest smile, Kili flung both his arms out of the blankets and held them out towards Thorin, begging to be carried.

Thorin gave Kili a very unyielding look, but Kili persisted, beaming widely at his uncle.

Thorin sighed, lifting the youngest member of his family out of his cocoon of blankets. Why did Dis have to have such manipulative, adorable children? This was all her fault. Her blasted genes, not his. No one had ever accused Thorin Oakenshield of being cute.

Ten minutes later they were both dressed and wearing shoes, and Kili was staring worriedly at his older brother, having forgiven him for the appalling wake-up call earlier. Fili had begun coughing, a deep, hacking, throaty sound that Kili didn't like at all. He was only two, but he knew enough to know that Fili should not be making that kind of sound.

Leaving his brother with the wooden sword that he was in love with, Kili scampered out to the kitchen again, where Uncle Thorin had once again taken up residence, accompanied by his pipe, axe, and mug of something. Intrigued by the something, Kili clambered up a chair to the table, peering inside. A black, bitter-smelling liquid sloshed around inside when he tilted the mug. Settling down more comfortably on the table, Kili picked up the mug with both his hands, grimacing a little at the weight, and decided to sample the drink.

A slight noise behind him made Thorin look around, just in time to see Kili dunk a nearly full mug of coffee over his small head. Thorin gaped at the coffee-doused dwarfling, who was gaping back at him.

"Kili, what are you doing?" Thorin demanded, standing up, towering over the little dwarf.

"Takin' a sip?" Kili put out his tongue and licked at some of the dark brown stuff covering him, and gagged instantly. "Yuck."

Thorin pinched the bridge of his nose, very tempted to dump Kili in a pond somewhere for two minutes to get the coffee off. "Why were you –"

"Fiwi sick!" Kili interrupted him, suddenly remembering why he had come in the first place.

"He's sick?" Thorin repeated, wondering what Kili was trying to do now. Distract him from the fact that he had a two-year-old doused liberally in coffee sitting on the table, no doubt.

"Fiwi be coughin' bad!" Kili shouted, standing up and glaring up at his uncle, who wasn't moving. Why wasn't he checking on Fili?

"He's coughing?" For a moment, Thorin was confused – and then he remembered the open window. "Where is he?"

Kili hopped off the table, rolling as he hit the ground, before standing up and running inside, leaving a trail of coffee drops in his wake. "Hurry up, Unca Thorin!" he called, heading back into his room.

Kili bounced inside to find Fili sitting on the floor, in front of the fireplace, shivering. Toddling over, Kili stood next to Fili, resting his chin on his older brother's shoulder. "Fiwi cold?"

"No," Fili said hoarsely. "I'm fine."

Slapping his arms around Fili's neck, Kili buried his face in his shoulder, leaning all his negligible weight on the other dwarfling. "You no sounds fine, Fiwi. You sounds bad."

"He's right," Thorin said, squatting down beside them. He put his hand on Fili's forehead, and hissed in surprise. The skin felt hotter than the furnace in the forge. He was going to have to call the healers. "Fili, you need to lie down, lad. You're ill."

"I'm fine," Fili insisted, trying to hide a wheezing breath. "Kili, why are you covered in coffee?"

"Kiwi taked a sip, and it was yuck," Kili explained airily, waving a hand at his coffee-dripping body. "Fiwi, you no fine. Go 'n' sweep," Kili ordered, tightening his grip on Fili's neck.

"Kili, he can't sleep if you're holding on to him like that," Thorin reprimanded the younger boy gently. "Let go."

"No," Kili retorted. "Kiwi stay wif Fiwi until Fiwi better. Kiwi no go 'way."

"Kili, I'm sick," Fili sighed, trying to pry his brother's little arms off him. "You can't stay with me, you'll fall sick too. I'll play with you later, okay?"

"No! Kiwi stay," Kili said obstinately.

Fili groaned, trying to get Kili off of him. His head hurt, his throat hurt – oh, his entire body hurt – why couldn't Kili understand that he wanted to be left alone and that he was in no mood to put up with annoying two-year-olds?

"Get off!" Fili snarled suddenly, making Kili jump backwards in shock, his brown eyes wide. "Leave me alone! I don't want to play with you! Go away!"

Kili's big eyes filled with tears, and before Thorin could grab him he fled from the room.

"Why did you say that?" Thorin snarled. "He's your brother!"

"He's driving me crazy," Fili rasped. But an image of Kili's wounded expression and the brown eyes overflowing with tears flashed in his mind's eye, and Fili suddenly buried his face in his hands. Why was he so mean?

"He'll be alright," Thorin said gently, lifting Fili off the ground and carrying him to his bed. "In a way you did a good thing, Fili. He would've fallen ill too if he'd stayed with you, and he's smaller than you. It would have hit him harder."

Pulling the dwarfling's boots off, Thorin tucked Fili into bed. "Stay here. I'll be back in a few moments – I need to bring the healers."

"Can you check on Kili?" Fili whispered, his throat paining him with every word he spoke. "Please?"

Thorin nodded. "I'll keep an eye out for him, but we need to take care of you first. He'll probably be playing somewhere in the house. After I bring the healers I'll talk to him."

The healers only confirmed what Thorin already knew. Fili was very, very sick, and his little brother was to be kept away from him until the fever had been reduced substantially, which could take a few days. They prescribed bed rest and a disgusting medicine that Fili pulled a face at when Thorin tried to give it to him.

"Did you find Kili?" Fili demanded, trying to sit up against the pillow.

"Not yet, and stay still," Thorin said, helping his nephew sit up. "If you take the medicine, I'll find him."

"You won't otherwise?" Fili shouted, shocked. "What kind of an uncle are you? He was upset, you saw him! Don't you care if he's okay or not? I hurt him, and now you're making me lie here instead of being able to find him, and you won't look either! What if he tried to climb up into the attic again and got hurt? What if –"

"Quiet," Thorin snapped, and Fili fell silent instantly, knowing he had crossed an invisible line. Thorin's face was stony, and he knew that his uncle was furious. Meekly, he took the medicine Thorin gave him, and lay back as his uncle strode from the room. Fili coughed, his throat searing with pain, every breath a laborious wheeze, his head pounding as if Dwalin had been hammering on it for hours. Exhaustion closed his eyes, and the last thing he saw before he fell asleep was Kili's expression when Fili had snapped at him, when the one person who was supposed to unconditionally love him and always be there for him had kicked him away.

-:-

Kili ran blindly on, dodging the large boots that kept coming at him as he dashed through the streets, his mad run keeping his little body from fully feeling the cold air pressing to him. He kept seeing Fili's furious face before him, hearing those poisonous words, wondering if his brother had meant it or not. But why would Fili say such things if he hadn't meant it? It was a mystery too great for Kili to solve.

So now he was running, not sure where his feet were taking him and not caring, swiping at his face with his hands whenever hot tears blinded him. Kili was vaguely aware of houses and dwarves around him, but suddenly a loud, jarring sound jerked him from his tears. A loud clanging was emitting from a huge building on his left, and it took Kili a few minutes to realize he was standing in front of the forge.

Biting his lip, he took a few small steps towards the entrance, and then paused, unsure whether to continue. Uncle Thorin had strictly forbidden him from entering the forge until his uncle took him there one day when he was big. But just one peek couldn't hurt, right? Kili nodded to himself. He would take two steps in, look around, and go right back out again. No one would ever know.

-:-

Kings didn't panic. Warriors always had a plan. But uncles were prone to fear, and Thorin kept up a steady stream of Khuzdul curses under his breath as he searched Dis's house from top to bottom, looking for her troublesome youngest. He'd even climbed into the attic like some crazed elf, out of fear that Fili was right and Kili had attempted to get up there! Thorin pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to calm himself, trying to think like a dwarfling. If he was small and hurt, where would he go? _Good question_, he told himself sarcastically. _Because Kili really thinks like you do_.

Making sure he kept his tread as light as possible, Thorin reentered the boys' room, where Fili was now fast asleep. He paused by his nephew's bed, looking down at the bright hair spread over the pillow. Fili's brows were furrowed, and his eyes moved restlessly behind their lids in sleep. Thorin laid his palm on the dwarfling's forehead and frowned. The fever was eating him alive. Bending down, he pressed a kiss to Fili's hair, smoothing it back before kneeling to look beneath the bed. No Kili.

An hour later, Thorin was considering the fact that he might actually be terrified. Kili was not behind any of the curtains, under any of the beds, in any of the fireplaces, in the attic, or anywhere else that he could think of to check. His baby nephew had simply vanished, and Thorin hadn't felt this helpless since Kili was up that tree…which was only yesterday. He sighed. His nephew was going to drive him into an early grave.

He was trying to force himself to think, but it was quickly becoming impossible. His head was spinning, his ears ringing, and his heart thumping as fast as it had when he had fought Azog, nearly convinced he would die in that battle. But now it wasn't his own life he was afraid of losing – it was his nephew's. How had Kili simply disappeared?

He muttered another curse, running his hands over his forehead in frustration. This had to be a bad dream. Just a dream. He closed his eyes, hoping, but when he opened them there was no Kili anywhere in the vicinity. Damn. Definitely not a dream then.

Thorin pushed the front door open, striding out into the nearby orchard, going immediately to the tree Kili had scaled so easily the previous day. "Kili!" he shouted, his throat burning with the force of his cry. "Kili, are you here?"

A bird chirped somewhere in response.

Drawing in a deep, ragged breath, Thorin sank against the tree, trying to still his mind. He needed to _think_. Kili had never gone beyond the orchard alone – a scared dwarf would never venture somewhere unfamiliar. It was simply not in their nature. But where was he then?

The temptation to cut down every tree until he found his nephew in one of them was so strong, but Thorin quelled it. It would take too long, and the icy air outside, coupled with the overhanging storm clouds, reminded him of something else. Fili had fallen badly ill in moments after opening the window – Kili had been saved only by the blankets – so if Kili, who was much smaller than his brother, was out in this weather for much longer, he would be just as sick, if not worse.

Thorin needed to find the boy, and fast.

So he was going to need help. Glancing towards the house, he wondered if he should be leaving Fili alone, and then growled and broke into a run, heading for the forge. Dwalin and Balin should both be there – they spent nearly all their time there, often with him. Maybe Dwalin could scare the lad out of hiding.

-:-

Dwalin was busy. The forge was sweltering, and he wanted nothing more than to step outside and breathe in some air that wasn't clogged with smoke and heat, but he had to finish. Raising his hammer again, he grunted as he slammed it down upon the red-hot iron, taking out his frustration on the metal. But his predicament seemed lessened when he remembered Thorin. The poor dwarf was watching over his two nephews. Dwalin allowed himself a small grin, wishing he could go watch. Fili and Kili could drive even the calmest dwarf mad in an hour. Those were two seriously talented babes. But even though Thorin moaned continuously about them, everyone knew how fond of them he really was. When he'd given Fili his first toy sword, Thorin had gone on for weeks about the natural skill the boy displayed with the weapon. Kili, on the other hand, seemed to have talents for everything but what Thorin expected. Such as when Thorin had come running into the forge just yesterday, shouting something about his crazed younger nephew miles high in a tree, of all things! Dwalin shuddered. He never climbed trees if he could help it. Nasty tall things.

His hammer came down hard against the iron again, and for a few minutes Dwalin lost himself in the work, the firelight making the black tattoos on his fingers shimmer in the half-light.

Something moving in his peripheral vision caught Dwalin's eye, but he remained focused on his work. It was probably a rat – once had snuck in last week. He smirked as he remembered Balin standing on a table, pointing a shaking dagger at the rat. The elderly dwarf, who had seen and survived so many ferocious battles, retained an unhealthy fear of vermin. Dwalin shook his head, as he hammered the iron into a definite shape. His elder brother was crazy.

Panting, Dwalin stepped back from the iron, his job done. He dropped his hammer with a thud onto the table and grabbed a skin of water, slaking his thirst with a long drink, when he suddenly remembered the rat. Pulling his knife out of a pocket, Dwalin glanced around the room, searching. There! A shadow was moving not too far from him. With a growl, he lunged at it, his knife plunging into the wood of the wall as it dodged and scurried away from him, whimpering.

Dwalin blinked. Rats didn't whimper.

He turned around to see a tiny mass huddled behind a work bench, snuffling. Jerking the knife out of the wall, Dwalin stomped over to the bench, noticing the shape drawing into itself as he did so. With a yell, he swooped down and lifted it in one hand, to find himself staring at a ridiculously small dwarfling with a mass of brown hair, a few stray braids flying as he swung the child into the air.

The baby dwarf stared at him, and Dwalin stared back, cursing his own stupidity. The brown hair and the tiny size were a dead giveaway, as were the famous big brown eyes that were gazing at him in terror. He had tried to kill Thorin's younger sister-son. He was a dead dwarf.

"What are you doing here, boy?" Dwalin barked, trying to overcome his shock. Surely Thorin knew that the forge was no place for young ones – what on earth had he been thinking, letting the lad come here?

The child burst into loud tears, wriggling in his grip, and Dwalin racked his brain for the young dwarf's name, but could not for the life of him remember. Gently, he set the wailing prince down on the table, wondering how on earth to calm it – him.

"What in Durin's name is happening here? Why are you holding a knife?" Balin came towards him from a far corner of the forge, a soft gasp passing his lips. "Kili? What is _he _doing here? Thorin will have our heads!" He hurried over to the dwarfling, putting his hand comfortingly on the boy's head, stroking it gently. "It's alright, lad. Do you remember me?"

Kili sniffled. The big scary dwarf with black things all over his head was standing back, which meant that the immediate threat had been vanquished. The dwarf with lots of white hair looked very familiar, and Kili screwed up his eyes as he tried to remember the name. Uncle Thorin got mad when he didn't remember names. "Bawin?" he tried.

Dwalin snorted, earning himself a glare from his brother.

"Balin, at your service," Balin smiled, bowing to the prince, wondering how he was going to explain this one to Thorin. "What are you doing here, lad?"

Kili's eyes grew wide, and Balin resisted the urge to groan. The boy was obviously searching for a good cover story.

"Takin' a walk," Kili decided, suddenly noticing the large hammer lying next to him. Crawling over to it, he wrapped his hands as best he could around the handle, trying to lift it.

"It's too heavy for ye, lad," Dwalin said, stepping forward, and Kili gave a squeak of fright and jumped backwards, falling off the table. A cry of pain emitted from behind the table, and both dwarves rushed around to find Kili already picking himself up, more interested in the sword propped against the wall a few feet away than the dark blue bruise on his small cheek.

"Wow," Kili whispered softly, running his small palm over the scabbard, tracing the carvings on it.

"Come on now, Kili," Balin said, reaching for the boy. "Let's get you home."

"No!" Quick as a flash, Kili hid behind the largest thing he had in close range: Dwalin's boot. He'd had a lot of practice with hiding behind boots, except that they were usually Thorin's, and these boots belonged to a scary looking dwarf with black things on his head. Why did he have black things on his head? Kili wrinkled his nose. The boots smelled.

"Dwalin!" A very familiar voice boomed from the doorway, and Dwalin stepped out of the shadows, leaving the dwarfling with nowhere to hide. The defenseless Kili – with much wriggling – found himself being lifted by Balin and carted off towards the entrance.

"Yes, Thorin?" Dwalin crossed his massive arms across his chest, raising his eyebrows. Thorin's brows were drawn, his eyes shining with worry, his mouth a pained slit in his face.

"Kili's missing," Thorin panted, trying to hide his fear. "I've looked for him everywhere, he's not in the house. I need you to help me find him."

"Think I can," Dwalin said, grinning. "The wee lad's back here." Beckoning Thorin after him, he led the king to the depths of the forge, where they met Balin, who was carrying a squirming Kili towards them. On seeing his uncle, Kili instantly shrank back into Balin, trying to look as innocent as possible. Uncle Thorin was _mad_.

"Kili," Thorin growled. "What are you doing here? Didn't I specifically forbid you from coming here till you were old enough?" He took the boy from Balin, giving him a quick nod of thanks, before his expression returned to fury. "Why didn't you stay at home? I have been searching for you _everywhere!_"

"Fiwi hates me!" Kili whimpered, burying his face in Thorin's shoulder to hide the tears. "'M not goin' home."

"He doesn't hate you," Thorin said placatingly, not sure whether to rage at the crying child or comfort him. "Fili was worried about you, Kili. He's just very sick. He isn't thinking straight at the moment."

Kili gazed at him with eyes wide with fear. "Fiwi gon' go 'way? Like daddy?" A lone tear trickled down his cheek.

Balin muttered something to Dwalin, and the two of them gave Thorin small nods before returning to their work, both of them taking care to make so much noise that they couldn't hear any more of the conversation. They didn't want to hear Thorin's response, and they knew Thorin didn't want them to. Their king had never fully gotten over the loss of his kin.

"Fili is not going to go anywhere," Thorin assured Kili, wiping the tear away with his thumb, dreading the day he would have to tell Kili just how his father died. Fili knew – he had overheard Dis and Thorin talking about it, but he had promised not to tell Kili. Would the boy blame him for the loss of his father, since he had died fighting under Thorin?

"He gon' get better?"

"Yes, Kili. He will get better." Thorin couldn't help the smile that spread over his face as Kili wound his little arms around his neck, clinging tightly to him. He patted the boy's back, turning around to face the other two dwarves, who were single-handedly creating the most deafening sound he'd heard in a while. "Keep it down, you two!" Thorin bellowed. "And thank you," he said quietly, dropping his voice a little as he realized that Kili was dozing on his shoulder.

"For what?" Balin came toward him a little, leaving his work behind. "All I did was keep Dwalin from killing your nephew, that's all."

Thorin's yell startled Kili, and probably everyone else within a one-mile radius. "WHAT?"

**A/N: There you have it. I do believe this is my longest chapter so far…and I don't really like it. So please review? More reviews = faster update! And I have made a chocolate mousse (which I also make fantastically) for all my reviewers for the last chapter. Thank you everyone! See you next chapter :D**


	5. Shattered

**A/N: The title comes from the song Shattered, by Trading Yesterday. I would like to, once again, thank all my readers and reviewers! A special shout-out to Nalbal for her amazingly long and sweet review. I loved it! And thank you to everyone else too – it would take too long to put everyone's names up, but you are all awesome and very very special to me. Thank you! I had a request for Bofur from the last chapter, he's introduced here and will appear more soon! **

**This chapter…depressed me. But I hope you like it! Please don't be too mad at me! I don't know how I feel about it myself…**

**Also, can we take a quick moment to appreciate just how much Kili is a human cupcake? Aidan Turner did a fantastic job. All the other actors did too – especially Richard and Dean. I'm rambling. Enjoy the chapter! Oh and listen to the song – it's really good, especially around the 2 minute something mark. Again, thank you, everyone! :D**

Shattered

Thorin growled low in his throat, taking a step towards the paling Dwalin, his eyes narrowing with rage as his fingers grasped the axe strapped to his hip. "You tried to _what?"_

Dwalin instinctively stepped back, swallowing. The child was watching him curiously with a thumb in its mouth, either oblivious or unconcerned with the fact that Dwalin was seeing his life flash before his eyes as the furious uncle advanced on him, his eyes flashing. "I thought he was a rat," Dwalin mumbled, vaguely aware that he was not helping his own cause any but unsure what else to say. "It was by accident, I swear! And the lad's fine!"

"Does he look like a rat?" Thorin roared, his free hand clenching into a fist as he tightened his protective hold on Kili. "How dare you even –" He broke off as shouts sounded from outside, and the anger slipped from his face slightly.

"Noisy," Kili observed, wondering why his uncle was shouting. Not that he was worried. He'd noticed that whenever Uncle Thorin was with other people, he spent a lot of time being angry.

Balin stepped out of the forge, shading his eyes against the morning sun as he gazed out into the street. "There appears to be some sort of…" His voice trailed off, his eyes widening as he hazarded a guess as to what he was seeing.

"Some sort of what?" Thorin shifted Kili in the crook of his arm as he walked heavily towards the doorway, sending Dwalin a last glower. This conversation was not over.

"My king!" A dwarf ran up, red-faced and out of breath, and covered in blood. Thorin froze – he recognized the dwarf. He had been one of the dwarves who had gone on Dis's journey with her, to safeguard her. "The lady Dis, she's –"

"Quiet," Balin snapped, glancing nervously at Kili, who was staring wide-eyed at the bloodstains and gashes on the newest arrival.

Thorin couldn't move.

He felt as though his limbs had suddenly turned to wood, and he could hear his heartbeat thumping erratically in his ears. This couldn't be happening – not again – but the blood on the guard's body was proof. His heart pounded against his ribcage as if trying to escape his body completely, but Thorin still couldn't move, his legs rooted to the ground, Kili suddenly a dead weight against his left arm.

Kili. The thought of his small sister-son, too young to lose his mother, and his elder brother, the beautiful, lovable, brave little Fili who had already been through so much, spurred Thorin to action. Dumping Kili in Dwalin's arms with instructions not to allow the little boy to so much as take a peek outside the forge, Thorin dashed from its smoky depths, out into the suddenly crowded streets.

The screams and sighs and sobs and shouts broke against his ears like an axe slicing through the flesh and bone of an orc, but Thorin still clung to the hope that she would survive. The crowd parted for him, and he saw a small ring of ponies and their riders, all of the dwarves covered in blood, the odor of it suffusing the air with its heavy metallic edge.

His sister, his beautiful little sister, lay on the ground, her prone form still. Bloody. Broken. Arrows sticking out of her body at odd angles. His _sister. _

A sob tore from his throat, and Thorin dropped to his knees beside her, grabbing her shoulders, shaking her. "Dis!" he bellowed, unshed tears searing his throat. "Dis!"

Her eyes fluttered open, and his heart stopped. "Thorin." A tear was leaking from her eye, and Thorin pulled her to him, embracing her tightly, as if he could draw her injuries over to his own body. As if he could save her.

"Get the healers!" he shouted, although a glance over her wounds told him nothing could save her. He had seen too many battles in his lifetime. He knew the scent of death. He could hear its sly footsteps as it slunk towards him through the shadows, stalking the little sister he loved as dearly as his own life.

"It's no use," Dis whispered, her voice hoarse. She coughed, flecks of blood flying from her lips, before giving him a sad, teary smile. "At least we can say goodbye, brother. I never got to say goodbye to our grandfather, our father, Frerin, my husband…" Her voice trailed off, and Thorin felt a tear slide down his own cheek as something occurred to him. The pain in Dis's eyes told him she'd realized it too. "And my sons."

Thorin held her even tighter, fighting back his own tears, trying to be the strong older brother he had always been. "Don't go, Dis," he gasped out, trying to hide his panic and fear and grief. He couldn't lose another member of his family. Not another. Please, Aulë, _please _not another. Not again.

"I don't want to," she confessed, and he felt her shaking as her arms moved slightly. Grasping her hands, Thorin put them around his neck, holding his little sister the way he had when their parents had scolded her, when she was scared, when she had come to him in the middle of the night out of fear that orcs were hiding under her bed, when they and Frerin had been caught trying to sneak out into the mines and sent to bed without dinner…And when she had lost her husband and nearly lost her mind with grief. He knew how she felt now. He had no one left.

"My children," Dis rasped, her voice suddenly much stronger. Thorin pulled back. He knew she would want to look him in the eyes. "They are your responsibility now, brother. They have no one now. No family. Please, take –" she broke off, coughing, wheezing for breath, crying with pain as her body shook with tremors.

"I will take care of them," Thorin whispered, his every syllable a promise. "They still have family, Dis. They still have me."

Her hand rose to touch his cheek, caressing his face, and Thorin caught her wrist, holding her hand, pushing his face into it, praying with every fiber of his being that the pulse he felt would never fade.

"I love you, Thorin," Dis said, smiling up at him through her pain. She was so brave. "You are my kin, and my king, but you are the best brother I could ever have asked for." He gave a broken sob, not caring that he was surrounded by others, for once willing to give way to his pain. He was not strong. He was no king. He was broken. Breaking.

"I love you too, Dis," Thorin said, his voice shaking, planting a soft kiss on her forehead, trying to smile through his tears at the blue eyes, the same that Fili had, that gazed up at him.

"Tell Fili and Kili I love them," she pleaded, her smile quivering until she gave way to her fear and sorrow, taking a gasping, crying, rattling breath. "Be strong for your people, Thorin. And be strong for my sons. They love you as a father, you know."

Thorin nodded. He did know. He pretended that he didn't, but even a blind, deaf, and dumb dwarf would have known that the boys adored him. "And I told you, little sister," he said, stroking her hair, "That I love them as if they were my own sons."

Her eyes closed for a moment, and Thorin's heart nearly stopped, but then they opened again, and again he saw Fili's trusting eyes looking up at him. "The three of you," she choked out, her voice so soft that he bent down to place his ear against her mouth, "Do not mourn me too long. Do not let what happened to me after my husband's death happen to yourself or my children. I will never leave you, I promise. I will watch over you from Aulë's halls."

Turning her head, Dis pressed a kiss to Thorin's hand, letting her eyes drift away from her brother's, letting them finally close, as a last breath, like a soft, peaceful sigh, slipped from her lips.

Her head fell back against him.

Thorin froze. He scrabbled at her arm, his fingers hooking tightly around her slender wrist, feeling frantically for a pulse, but there was none. His hand found her neck, but although her skin was still warm, and in some places covered in blood, he couldn't lie to himself. His baby sister was gone.

For the first time in years, Thorin sobbed like a baby, clutching the limp form of what had moments ago been his living, breathing sister, the one who he had shared so much of his life with. The only one who had helped him heal after losing Erebor, after that harrowing battle at Moria. The one who had given him the most precious gift he had ever received: his nephews. The one who had laughed with him at the world when they were young, the one who had helped him pull pranks on Frerin, the one who had stood up to him whenever it had been necessary. His sister. The one he had told himself he would always protect. He remembered threatening her husband when he had married her, warning him that if he ever hurt Dis in any way, her menacing older brother and his war axe would be paying the unfortunate dwarf a visit.

Thorin moaned with misery, his entire body shaking with anguish. Dis had left him, and the scar tissue left by the loss of his brother, father, and grandfather broke apart and began to bleed again. The pain was paralyzing.

He hadn't been excited when she'd been born. He'd been hoping for another brother – little girls were boring, he'd thought, interested in dolls and nothing else. But she had taken to him instantly, had insisted on crawling around after him, had always come to him whenever she needed anything, and he had warmed to her, occasionally letting her accompany him and Frerin on their "adventures." And within a few more years, he and his sister knew each other better than anyone else did. She had become his anchor to the normal part of himself, the part that had been a little boy, and a brother. Even when he was officially crowned as heir to Erebor's throne, even when he became a king, Dis always saw him as her brother. Nothing else had mattered in their relationship.

If tears and heartache could make a stairway, Thorin thought bitterly, he would climb to Aulë's halls and bring her back. Give his nephews a mother again. Give himself his little sister back. Put back the piece of his heart that she had torn out and taken with her when she'd left him.

A flash of pain nearly crippled him as he saw her bright smile in his mind's eye. He could still see her bending down to a five-year-old Fili, introducing the adorable blond toddler dwarf to the bundle in her arms named Kili, laughing as the baby's flailing arm tangled in Fili's hair. Fili had insisted on holding the newest addition to the family, squealing in delight as the baby smiled at him, and Dis had looked up at Thorin, joy shining in her eyes.

Kili's first smile. It had been for Fili, just as Dis's first smile had been for Thorin.

Thorin had no idea how long he stayed there, curled protectively over his little sister's cold body, weeping for her. But a hand on his shoulder brought part of him back from that vast plain of aching loss that had haunted his dreams for years.

"Thorin," Balin said from behind him, his voice shaking, "You need to get up."

Thorin ignored him, burying his face in Dis's hair, his shoulders shaking with his quiet sobs. She was gone. Gone! Couldn't they leave him alone with his pain?

"They were being followed," Balin said, and Thorin could hear the older dwarf choking back tears. "They were on foot, Thorin."

Thorin raised his head only slightly, his hair hiding his face from Balin, his chest heaving, praying that he had misunderstood.

But Balin wouldn't lie to him. "The orcs, Thorin. They're coming."

A hollow, disbelieving laugh escaped Thorin. Fate just refused to give him a break. The orcs were coming…but he didn't really care. He smoothed back Dis's hair with his palm, seeing her face behind his lids every time he closed his eyes. What more could life take from him? He had nothing more to give. If death came to him now, he would take it gladly.

Even as he came to that realization, Thorin couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing something. But his heart was still pounding madly, his ears ringing and his head spinning, and Thorin gave a sudden gasp, pushing his fists into his eyes, rubbing his forehead in an attempt to soothe the angry dwarf pounding at the inside of his skull with a war hammer.

He saw her blue eyes again, but now they were staring at him in reproach. Those blue eyes, so like…_Fili_.

Thorin stood up so quickly that he heard Balin and several others gasp. He had mourned his sister enough – more than she would have wanted to. If his nephews were to survive this night – for he had no doubt the orcs would arrive by nightfall, following the prints left by the ponies' hooves – he would need his wits about him. He needed to be Thorin, son of Thrain. King under the mountain. He would keep every promise he had made to Dis. Death could wait. He had two nephews to care for.

"Balin, I need you to begin arming the warriors. We have extra weapons in the forge. I want every dwarf armed to the teeth. Find every archer we have; put them up on the rooftops with the best vantage points. They need to be effective. Mahal knows we don't have enough of them." Lifting his chin, letting the dried tears cake on his face, Thorin watched the dwarves around him begin to move, many of them following Balin a small distance away. Those would be his best fighters, no doubt. Balin knew what he was doing. "Gloin," he said, making the statement a question. The dwarf he wanted stepped up from the crowd. "I need you to gather the remaining fighters, and between you and Balin, every entrance must be guarded." He growled deep in his throat. "Those scum will not survive tonight." It was an oath he made to himself, his nephews, and his little sister. Not a single orc would see the next dawn.

A shout answered him as the crowd dispersed almost instantly, leaving only the few female dwarves behind, tears still streaking their cheeks as they knelt around Dis.

"Keep her someplace safe," Thorin begged them, seeing his pain mirrored in their eyes. They nodded, and some offered him soft condolences as he walked away, dropping his head to hide his tears. Behind him, they began singing softly the Khuzdul songs for the dead.

He needed to figure out what to do with his nephews. Children…dwarves were very unused to children, but Mahal knew what he would do without those two. But who could he leave them with? Thorin knew he would be fighting, and as much as he would like to ask Dwalin to watch the boys – he was an excellent fighter and would therefore be an excellent guard – he had a feeling Dwalin would be needed in the thick of things, where he did not intend the dwarflings to be. But who could he trust them with? Balin was another option, but like his younger brother, Balin was practically indispensable in battles. Both of them were invaluable warriors.

As Thorin swept his eyes over the dwarves now tossing weapons to each other, he noticed a floppy brown hat. Perfect. "Bofur!" he roared, determined to make himself heard over the general din. "Bofur!"

In a few more confused minutes, Bofur made his way over, bowing to Thorin, which made his floppy hat appear even floppier.

"I need you to do something for me," Thorin said quietly.

Bofur raised his eyebrows, rocking back and forth on his heels, smiling. "Name it, Thorin. Whatever ye need."

"My sister-sons," Thorin said, enjoying the look of incredulous shock mixed with panic that appeared on Bofur's face. "I need you to watch them till the battle is done."

"Those two?" Bofur spluttered, before remembering that he was addressing the king. "I mean – of course, I'd –"

"Thank you," Thorin said, hiding a smirk. How those two boys managed to terrify fully grown dwarves was beyond him. Maybe they could scare off the orcs too. But the memory of Dis's body limp in his arms chased the smile from his lips, making his eyes sting. If an orc even approached either one of his nephews, he wouldn't just kill it. He would make it _suffer_. Make it beg for death.

Bofur was biting his lip, still looking terrified, and Thorin felt a tug of pity for the dwarf before him. Bofur, Bifur, and Bombur had joined him rather recently. They were from the west, but had heard his tale and decided to join him, with the aim of one day aiding him in reclaiming Erebor. Lofty dreams, yes, but Thorin never refused anyone. Although he didn't seem it, he was quite accepting by nature.

He had figured out early on that Bofur was not a warrior of Dwalin's league, nor of Balin's, but he was a formidable foe nonetheless, although he had a soft side that came out quite often. He liked to drink and joke, and the jokes were what made Thorin feel that he would be the best option to watch the dwarfling terrors. If they were discovered, Bofur would be quite capable of defending them, and for the rest of the time, he wouldn't scare Kili and Fili the way Dwalin undoubtedly would.

"Come with me," Thorin commanded, cursing the way his voice sounded hoarse. Without waiting to see if Bofur was following him, he strode into the forge, waiting for a moment in the entrance for his eyes to adjust to the disorienting darkness. But when they did, he couldn't see either Dwalin or Kili. Panic flared inside him, but he shut it down, fighting for control. "Dwalin?" he shouted, relief flooding through him as through the dim firelight he saw a bulky figure moving towards him.

"Aye?" Dwalin entered the light, a sleeping Kili held awkwardly in his arms. "Fellow sleeps a lot, does he?" he asked, holding the child out to Thorin. "Five minutes after you left he was out."

"And what was he doing in those five minutes?" Thorin carefully transferred Kili into the cradle of his arms, letting the brown head pillow itself on his shoulder. Gently, he pulled a braid out of Kili's face, suddenly wishing that Fili was there with him too. The boys were all he had now.

"Driving me crazy," Dwalin muttered. "He wanted to use every axe I had in here, and wouldn't listen when I tried to explain that all of them are longer than he is tall!"

Thorin grinned, noticing as he glanced down at Kili again that the lad's thumb had once again found its way into his mouth. Reaching down, he tugged it free, feeling something tighten inside him as the tiny fingers wrapped tightly around his thumb instead. _This _was what Dis had left him, so that he wouldn't miss her too much.

Suddenly he wanted to leave, and he knew why. Holding Kili like this, Thorin found himself missing Fili intensely – almost as much as if Fili too had left with his mother. But before he could think of a good excuse to leave, Dwalin spoke again.

"What happened? I didn't let the boy outside, so I didn't…" He broke off as Thorin's expression darkened, suddenly noticing his king's pale face and reddened eyes. And in the firelight, there seemed to be…tear tracks on his cheeks? No. Thorin never cried. But they were there, and Dwalin felt a growl begin in his chest. What had happened? Who had hurt his king? He would tear them apart. With his bare hands.

"Bofur, fill Dwalin in, will you?" Thorin asked quietly. "I'll be over at my sister's house. Dwalin, bring Bofur by in a few minutes."

Not waiting for a response, he abandoned the forge in favor of hurrying towards Dis's house. But he stopped in front of her door, his chest heaving. For the first time, he was entering with the knowledge that she would never be there to welcome him with a smile or a hug. Thorin held Kili even closer, wondering how he would tell the boys that they would never see their mother again. Wondering how he would face Fili, who had his mother's beautiful blue eyes and who was old enough to understand what had happened. Wondering how he could even _pretend _to be his normal stoic self after losing his baby sister so cruelly.

She hadn't deserved to die like that! Dis had been such a sweet, gentle, loving woman – she should never have died a death so violent. He was well-aware that his own life could end in such a way, but his sister's…never. He had never even considered the possibility. And suddenly he was furious with himself for not going with her. He could have saved her! He could have died in her stead! She was needed more than he. She had left behind two small sons. He would have been missed less.

Thorin hated himself now for thinking that Dis had been trying to punish him by leaving him with her sons. She had been reminding him that he was not alone, that he still had family that loved him and knew him for who he was – beyond the stern, commanding, strong exterior he always showed the world. After all, Dis had been the only person to witness his tears after losing their kin at Moria. She knew he was not an unfeeling block of stone. She had been trying to remind him of that.

Had he been a good brother? Thorin sat down heavily on the front step. He wasn't sure, and even the shadow of that doubt was killing him. Had he wasted the time he'd had with her, pretending not to care even though he had loved her so deeply? Had she known that he cared for her, that he would gladly have died for her?

She had known, Thorin remembered. She had told him so soon after Moria – and made him promise that he would care just as much for her two now fatherless children. And he could remember enough moments he had shared with her to be pretty sure that she had known he loved her. Dis had always been able to read him. To others, he had been an unfeeling dwarf cut from granite. To her, he was an open book illuminated by a hundred candles.

Even Frerin had not known him so well.

There was pain in his chest, a real physical pain that made it difficult to breathe, and so tempting to stop, but Thorin knew that if he looked he would find no wound. Not a physical one, at least. He had lost so many already – he only had two left to lose. And they were both so young. So carefree. So innocent. How could he shatter them so completely as to tell them that they would never see the mother they loved again?

Would Fili even want to see Thorin's face after that? Would he blame him for losing his father and his mother? Thorin had a feeling that she had been attacked because she was his sister. Orc attacks in the Blue Mountains were that rare – one of them must have made the connection, must have wanted to hurt him more. And they had succeeded.

Would Kili ever smile again? Would Fili ever beg him for another sword fighting lesson? Would the boys love him anymore? Thorin didn't know what he would do if they didn't. They still had each other…he was alone.

A tear slid down his face and landed in Kili's hair.

Whatever happened, Thorin swore to himself, he would make sure that the two boys treasured each other as he had treasured Dis – and he would make sure that they both knew it. He didn't want them to face the wracking doubts he had at any point in their lives. If they ever doubted his love for them, they would at least know that they had each other. Dis had known it too…but he had rarely told her. He didn't want his nephews to share his fear of showing his love. Because that's what it was. Fear. Nearly everyone he cared for had been taken for him – he was afraid of caring now. Afraid of losing another piece of his shredded heart. But those two sister-sons of his could break through his shell. They could bring out the uncle in him, just as Dis had always brought out the brother. Thorin just hoped that when they grew older, they retained that ability. He stroked Kili's soft hair, watching the small, peacefully sleeping face of his nephew.

Thorin's face was cold, and he knew if he reached up to touch it his fingers would come away wet. It was too cold for Kili to be out, but Thorin didn't have the strength to go in – he'd simply bundled Kili inside his furs for warmth. He would sit on this damned step for the rest of his life. He couldn't go in, knowing that he would never meet Dis inside those walls again. It would break him completely.

But no. What had Dis begged him to do? _Be strong for my sons. _He could still hear her voice. And he would keep his promise. Steeling himself, drying his tears, he entered the house. It was no longer a home.

Fili was still asleep, his mouth opened wide and his face pressed against the pillow. He had his arms tightly around the second pillow, and Thorin felt a small smile creep across his face as he realized that Fili was using that pillow as a substitute for Kili.

_Aulë keep them both safe, _he prayed, sitting down next to Fili and shaking him gently by the shoulder. "Fili," he said softly. "Fili, wake up, lad."

Fili groaned and turned over, so that he ended up pushing his head face-first into the pillow.

Thorin rolled his eyes. Fili complained that Kili never woke up? He was just as bad. Then again, maybe his illness had something to do with it. He felt the dwarfling's forehead nervously, but the fever had reduced substantially. Relief flooded him. One less thing to worry about.

"Fili!" Thorin shook him again, and this time Fili opened his eyes. Thorin bit his lips to hide the groan of pain when Dis's bright eyes smiled up at him.

The golden-haired child stretched, yawning widely, before his eyes fell on the dark-haired baby dwarf in Thorin's arms. "You found him!" Fili stretched out his arms beseechingly, and Thorin passed Kili over to his elder brother, who hugged him tightly.

"Yes, I did." Thorin beckoned Fili over to him, waiting till the child had finished dragging the slumbering Kili over too before undoing the braids in Fili's hair and beginning them again. "He was in the forge. Dwalin found him apparently." A dull feeling of anger rose in him for a moment as he remembered yet again that Dwalin had tried to kill his nephew, but it was short-lived. It had been a mistake, Dwalin had caught himself before doing any damage, and besides, his grief for Dis was smothering nearly every emotion he felt. If he closed his eyes, he could see her standing in the doorway, watching him with his nephews as she often did, so she could tease him about it later. He missed her so much that he was nearly wishing for death just so he could join her, and Frerin, and the rest of their kin…But the two boys before him were his new reason for life. His only reason.

Fili was still holding Kili tightly to him, and Thorin's breath hitched as he watched Kili stir slightly in Fili's crushing grip. Once Kili woke, what would he say to them? How could he ever break the news to them? It would traumatize them both. Scar them permanently, just as his heart was scarred and broken. But he didn't want that for them. Too young. They were too young to be shattered.

**A/N: And there you have it. This is what I did yesterday evening and this morning. Ta-da! :P**

**Reviews, please? I have a very tough week of school coming up, so I may not be able to update next weekend…I will try though! I promise. Thank you for reading, please leave me a review! I am always open to suggestions, and I love hearing what you have to say! Love you!**


	6. Strong

**A/N: Hi everyone! I know I took forever to update this – I am sorry! But school has just sucked. I didn't get much time to write, so it took me an extra week, but here you are! I want to start by explaining the title. I borrowed it from a quote from Being Human, the TV show Aidan Turner was in before the Hobbit. Peter Jackson was watching the show, and he liked it so much he stole Aidan from it – the show itself is really good! And this quote is one of the many powerful ones from it, and it really spoke to me. I hope it does to you too. **

**Thank you all my lovely reviewers for the last chapter! You guys really kept me motivated, thank you for taking the time to drop something off in that little box! This chapter was written especially for you guys. Special thanks to Sabishiioni, Tripping55, Jukori, PJOHPHGLOVE, XxLostInTheMusicxX, and Nalbal for their wonderful long reviews and their support! I love long reviews :D**

**And thank you to all my anonymous reviewers, who I can't respond to because you're anonymous! **

**This chapter…is a little darker than the previous ones. Or I think it is…fair warning. Anyway, on with the story, please R&R to keep the updates and my motivation flowing! **

Strong

_I think about what and who I love and I think about them in danger and I could tear this bloody house down with my teeth! You have no idea how strong I am. _

Thorin's fingers began to shake as he continued adding braids to Fili's sunny hair. Kili had just woken up, and the boys were currently hugging each other tightly, Fili mumbling apologies to his little brother, who was solemnly patting him on the head. Normally the scene would have been one in which Thorin would have been standing in the doorway with Dis, smiling lovingly at the two youngsters. But now she wasn't there, she wasn't watching…

_I will watch over you from Aulë's halls. _

But what good were words? Could he see her? Could he hold her? Could he speak to her, smile at her? Thorin closed his eyes, fighting to keep his breath even. The boys would only last so long before noticing that something was wrong with their uncle…and the longer he hid it, the better.

He noticed suddenly that the room was silent – which was very unusual, given that there were two rowdy baby dwarves sitting there with him. When he opened his eyes again, Thorin found himself staring into a pair of beautiful blue eyes, like little pieces of the sky, that were an inch or two from his face.

"Are you okay, Uncle Thorin?" Fili frowned at his uncle, worried.

"Yes, Fili, I'm fine," Thorin said, trying to muster up a reassuring smile to give the young dwarf. "Just rather sleepy." Glancing over Fili's head, he saw Kili watching them both contentedly, chewing on a corner of the bedspread.

Seeing Thorin's raised eyebrows, Fili turned around, giggling when his eyes landed on Kili. "You don't eat that, Kili," Fili said, trying to tug the coverlet from the dwarfling's mouth. But Kili glared at his brother, climbed atop one of the pillows, and perched there with his precious corner, obstinately gnawing at it.

"Let him be," Thorin sighed, sharing a small grin with his older nephew. But the smile was short-lived. A heavy knock sounded on the front door, and Thorin walked out of the room and through the hallway, remembering only when he was practically at the door that he had forgotten to tell the boys that they would have to remain quiet and in hiding for quite possibly the remainder of the day and night, depending on how long it took him to slash every approaching orc to pieces…this was probably not going to go very well.

When he opened the door to Dwalin and Bofur, he stared for a moment, shocked. Dwalin's eyes were red, and before Thorin could even say a word, Dwalin had wrapped him in a bear hug, thumping him on the back a few times before stepping away. Taking a deep breath, fighting the urge to massage his ribs, Thorin gave Dwalin a small nod before motioning for Bofur to enter too.

"The boys are inside," Thorin said softly. "I had a small tunnel dug underneath the house; it's entrance is concealed. I want you to stay in there with them until I come to get you out. If anyone but me tells you to come out, do _not _leave it. Is that clear?"

Bofur nodded, and Dwalin sent him a sympathetic glance.

"Have you told them?" Bofur asked.

Thorin's face darkened, the formidable brows coming together. "No, I haven't. Do not mention Dis to them, I will tell them of it after the battle. Come in. I'll introduce you."

When he entered the boys' room, Thorin paused in the doorway, clearing his throat. Kili squeaked with shock, falling off the edge of the table he'd been standing on…the same table on which Thorin had left his axe. Fili was standing on the floor near it, his arms outstretched. They had evidently been trying to get it down from where he'd kept it.

"Boys," Thorin said sternly, "What did I tell you about touching my weapons?"

"Umm…" Fili stared up at the ceiling, as if the answer to his uncle's question was up there, just begging to be read.

Kili didn't even bother acknowledging that he'd heard the question. He just ran up to his uncle, his arms outstretched, a wide smile on his face, standing on his tiptoes.

"Don't play with them?" Fili guessed, fixing his eyes on Thorin's face. Why did his uncle look so…worried? Fili shook off the foreboding that had begun to claw its way into his mind. Uncle Thorin always looked worried – right?

Thorin was fighting to keep his composure as he watched Fili. The face he pulled while thinking was the same one that Dis always wore when she was trying to figure something out – Dis would crinkle her eyes and bite her lip, tilting her head to one side, and Fili resembled her so strongly in that moment that Thorin wanted to fall on his knees and quake with misery.

But he couldn't. He had promised her he wouldn't.

Something landed on his foot, and Thorin glanced down to see Kili standing on his boot, hugging his shin and mumbling something to himself. Bending down, Thorin lifted Kili up into his arms, and taking a few steps forward to reach his other nephew, swept Fili up too, so that he had one child in each arm. For a moment, he just held them tightly, pressing his lips to their soft hair, squeezing his eyes shut to keep the tears from falling as he felt small arms twine around his neck and grip his hair and shoulders, their little faces pushing into him.

He loved them so much. Sometimes he suspected he loved them even more than he knew.

After a few minutes, when his breathing had returned to normal, and the lone tear he had shed had slid off his face, Thorin turned, carrying them out into the living room, where Dwalin and Bofur were waiting.

"Boys," Thorin said, ignoring the way Kili whimpered and burrowed further into him at the sight of Dwalin, "You both know Dwalin, right?"

Dwalin offered Fili a small smile, and instantly the golden-haired dwarfling had jumped out of Thorin's arms, wanting to get a better look at the tattoos on Dwalin's knuckles. "What does this say?" Fili asked, gripping one of Dwalin's hands in both of his and turning his head, nearly going cross-eyed as he tried to read the war cry in the Khuzdul lettering.

"It says: Baruk Khazâd! Khazâd ai-mênu!" Dwalin pronounced the Khuzdul in a deep, low growl, making Kili quiver and cling tightly to Thorin. Fili, on the other hand, repeated the phrase after Dwalin, deepening his own voice as best he could. Thorin tried not to laugh.

"You know what it means, lad?" Dwalin asked, kneeling down before the elder prince. He was beginning to be fond of the child – although Mahal knew he had no idea what to do with children. How Thorin interacted with them was beyond him.

"Axes of the dwarves! The dwarves are upon you!" Fili's response was instantaneous, and Bofur and Dwalin both looked at Thorin in amazement.

"That's quite a smart lad you've got there," Bofur said, surprised. "Khuzdul phrases when he's only seven? I didn't learn it till I was years older. Twice your height, Fili, and then I learned that."

Fili regarded Bofur for a moment, as if deciding whether to like him or not – a nerve-wracking moment for Thorin – and then smiled disarmingly, his face sharply resembling his baby brother's. "Can I try on your hat?"

Thorin opened his mouth, and Bofur sent him a sharp look. "Of course, lad, but it might be a little big on you." Bending down, Bofur lifted his floppy hat off his head and placed it carefully on Fili's. Almost instantly, it fell down over the boy's face, its brim resting on his shoulders.

Fili tilted it back, so that his face was peeking out from underneath the wide brim, and grinned up at Thorin, who rolled his eyes at his nephew. "That's enough, Fili," he said quietly. "Give the hat back to Bofur. And say thank you!"

"Yes, Mum," Fili muttered under his breath, handing the hat back to Bofur, adding his thanks. But Thorin wasn't listening. What would Fili say when he had no one to call "Mum" anymore?

He was distracted when a sharp pain in his head made him wince. "Kili!"

"Sorry," Kili mumbled, patting his uncle on the side of his head in consolation. He had been attempting to braid Thorin's hair – it had turned into a very large knot which he didn't know how to untangle. Not knowing what else to do, he pathetically held up the large clump of dark hair and one of Thorin's perfect braids that he had somehow twined together. "He'p?"

Fili snickered, and Thorin shot him a look. "I need you two to stay with Bofur until I come and get you, okay?"

"Where? Why?" Fili was staring between Thorin and Bofur, biting his lip again, and Thorin wondered how to explain it. Should he just tell them they were being attacked? Knowing his nephews, they would probably try to give Bofur the slip and join the battle. He wished he'd thought about how to explain this before telling them.

"It's a game we're playing," Bofur interjected, squatting down so his eyes were at Fili's level. "We have to hide and stay quiet until your Uncle Thorin finds us."

"Hide an' seek!" Kili shouted from Thorin's shoulder, making his uncle wince as the dwarfling yelled loudly in his ear.

"Yes, like that," Bofur smiled. "What do you think, lads? You want to play?"

"Yeah!" Kili patted Thorin's arm frantically, clearly wanting to be put down, and Thorin let him run over to Fili, watching the baby leaning on the elder dwarfling's arm. "When we gon' start?"

Thorin glanced out the kitchen window. He could see the dwarves milling about, heard commands and questions being thrown about, and knew where he was needed more. "In a few hours," he said, his eyes still fixed on the scene outside. "And I want you to behave yourself for Bofur. If I hear horror stories when I come back…" He let the unspoken threat of his displeasure hang in the air for a moment.

"We should go, Thorin," Dwalin said, straightening up, hefting his axe in his left hand. "We've got work to do."

"Are you going to the forge?" Fili ran up to Thorin. "Can I come?"

"Fili, we've been over this a thousand times, you can't –"

"Kili was there!"

"Not with my permission!" Thorin glared down at his older sister-son, standing between the boy and the door. He was _not _risking another family member. The boys would wait till they were older or there would be hell to pay. But Fili's blue eyes, alternately pleading and furious, so like his mother's, were tugging on his heartstrings, and Thorin could remember a time when his little sister could convince him to do nearly anything…

He never had the chance to cave. The door burst open, and Oin was in the doorway, panting. "Thorin! You must come!"

Thorin's eyes widened. "Is it time?"

Oin nodded, too out of breath to speak, and Thorin swore loudly, not caring that his impressionable nephews were adding to their Khuzdul vocabulary. "My sword is inside –"

"Hurry! We'll meet you outside." Dwalin seized Oin by the arm and both of them broke into a run as they left, the door slamming shut behind them. In moments, Thorin was back, strapping his sword to his hip, grabbing his axe from the couch. "Bofur, Fili, Kili, I'll see you soon. Remember, boys, no coming out until I find you. And you have to stay quiet."

"Where are you going?" demanded Fili, who had been letting Kili play with the braids Thorin had added to his hair.

"Out," Thorin answered, bending down and dropping kisses on the small heads. "Yes, Kili, that is a beautiful braid," he assured the younger dwarfling, who had now given Fili a knot on his head very similar to the intricate tangle hanging midway through Thorin's hair and was holding it up for inspection. "Bofur, come to the door with me."

Behind him, Thorin heard Fili's shout of fury as he realized just what Kili had done with his hair, but he ignored the sounds of a beginning squabble. "Fili's still rather ill," he began, but the other dwarf cut him off.

"I'll take care of them, I promise," Bofur smiled. "I'll make sure they don't fight too much, and that they don't get out."

"The entrance is through the closet in D – in my sister's room," Thorin explained, speaking fast and low. "You should be able to figure it out. There's a lever concealed –"

"I can find it," Bofur assured him. "The boys will be fine with me. Good luck out there, Thorin. Come back in one piece."

"Thank you," Thorin muttered, swinging the door open. "And good luck to you too, Bofur. You'll need it more than me." He took a step out the door, and then stepped back in. "Keep them safe." It was a whisper. A plea. And then he was gone, out into the cool air, fighting down the fear and shock. The orcs had arrived hours earlier than he had expected to, if the scouts had spotted them approaching already.

"How much time?" he shouted, striding into a mass of fighters bristling with weapons and hate.

"Half an hour, maybe a little more," Balin informed him, popping up at his side. "Everyone's in place. We're as ready as we'll ever be."

"They got here so soon," Thorin mused aloud, although he already knew the answer. "Uruk-hai?"

"Must be," Balin said. "That's what I've told all my fighters, anyway. Because Dis's guards said they were on foot…they definitely didn't see any Wargs there." He glanced around Thorin, and then smiled approvingly. "You left Fili and Kili someplace safe? Not alone, I trust?"

Thorin shook his head. "They are being watched."

"Good." Balin blinked suddenly as he noticed something. "Thorin."

"What?"

"Your hair, laddie. What in Durin's name happened to your hair?"

Thorin stared at Balin, confused. "I didn't know anything happened to it," he said, still trying to work out what the older dwarf meant.

"_This _happened to it!" Balin reached out and held a section of Thorin's hair up for inspection – it had been worked into a convoluted knot. "I thought the only thing you added to your hair was a few braids!"

Thorin scoffed. "Of course. This" – he gestured towards the knot – "Is a braid made for me by a certain very talented dwarfling named Kili, who would not appreciate your current tone."

"I see." Balin gave Thorin a tiny smile, knowing why Thorin had kept the tangle in his hair instead of removing it. The king was far more loving and sentimental than he appeared. "Treasure it. Although I suppose your hair cannot wait for the time when Kili learns to make a proper braid."

Thorin sighed. "I cannot wish for a time when I can no longer carry both my nephews with one arm," he confessed. "I –"

A dwarf ran up to Thorin, interrupting their conversation. "They're almost here," he announced. "Bifur says five minutes, or less."

Balin inclined his head. "Shall we?"

Thorin nodded, the war drums beginning in his head. He loved this moment. The adrenaline before a battle, that moment where you and your body were the only things that mattered, and your fate was in your own hands. He drew his sword with his right hand, his axe held in his left, as he strode through the grouping of fighters. These were his people. These were the dwarves who had stood by him after losing Erebor, the ones who believed in him and who followed him without question. And tonight, he would kill or be killed with them. His fate was theirs.

He was aware of Balin watching him, probably wondering if he would make some sort of speech. But he'd never been one for speeches, and he wasn't going to start now. Every dwarf standing with him knew what he would say, and so there was no need to say it.

The war cries of orcs drifted towards him on the cold wind, along with their foul stench, and Thorin lifted his head, bending his knees in preparation to charge, sucking in deep lungfuls of air. They were going to pay for hurting his sister. For killing her. For taking her from him and her sons before her time.

He could see them now, and Thorin raised his axe in the air, a fierce yell on his lips, a cry echoed by his warriors. They were ready.

-:-

"Can we go outside now?" Fili begged, glaring around at the tiny dark hole they were hiding in, illuminated by a single candle. "Uncle Thorin's taking too long. I think he forgot about us."

"No, laddie, your uncle wouldn't forget us," Bofur assured him. "He's probably looking under a hedge for you right now, cursing everything under the sun." He watched the boy roll his eyes, uncannily resembling Thorin, and sighed. He resented the fact that he was playing the babysitter while the rest of the dwarves got to fight, but in a way he didn't mind it at all. Because what it told him was that Thorin trusted him enough to leave the two boys with him. And somehow, his king's trust made up for his not being able to fight.

A loud giggle made them both look around. Kili was standing in Bofur's upturned hat, beaming at them both. "Floppy," he announced, using the new word Fili had taught him a few minutes ago, gripping the brim of the hat with his hands and hopping forward, taking it with him.

Bofur smiled at the dwarfling, who was apparently pretending that the hat was a sack he could bounce around in. Normally Bofur didn't let others even touch his precious hat, but if it made Thorin's tiny nephew this happy, the boy was welcome to it.

Fili rolled his eyes at his brother, a scowl on his face so reminiscent of Thorin's that for a moment Bofur quailed. Then he remembered that the face scowling angrily at the ground belonged to a seven-year-old dwarfling. But the boy would probably make a better king than any of them had realized if he could intimidate older dwarves with his glare at such a young age.

"What are you doing, Kili?" Fili gave his baby brother a disbelieving look as Kili just grinned at him, singing to himself in a language no one else could understand. But a few moments later, Kili obligingly climbed out of the hat, which Bofur carefully dusted off and shook out before slapping it back on his head.

"We gon' leave now?" Kili asked, settling himself next to Fili and sticking his thumb into his mouth. This place was too dark for him to like it…but Fili was here, and Kili let his brother's proximity comfort him.

"What's this?" Fili reached forward, pulling something out of Bofur's belt as he wrapped his other arm around Kili's small, warm body.

-:-

For Thorin, the world had gone silent. The screams of orcs and dwarves alike did not affect him. His blade and axe swung through the daylight, a feral snarl on his lips as he cut down every orc he saw. Battle was a dance, and he was an expert. A misstep could prove fatal, but Thorin had perfected his technique long ago. And suddenly the sound came rushing back, and he could hear synchronized thuds as Balin twirled his axe before him. He heard war cries being shouted from other clumps of the fighting, and took a moment to hope that the few children they had were kept safely. But he knew they would have been. Dwarven mothers were extremely protective of their young…he knew that firsthand.

At the thought of Dis, Thorin bit back a growl of pain, preferring to offload it onto another by stabbing his blade through the chest of an incoming orc. There were more of them than he'd anticipated, but Thorin wasn't worried. He and his dwarves had something to fight for. The orcs had nothing.

Fresh screams arose from behind him, and Thorin whirled around, slashing his way into a nearby skirmish, finding two dwarves being set upon by nearly a dozen orcs. Spinning his axe in one hand and wielding his sword in the other, Thorin settled into a familiar rhythm – slice, spin, adjust grip, repeat – until he found himself spattered with black blood, no enemy rushing at him with a weapon brandished in its hand.

Dimly, he was aware that the dwarves around him were gaping at him, but he paid them no heed, striding into another fray. The orcs had attempted to surround the dwarves and force their way in, and he was glad he'd thought to position his fighters at every possible entrance.

A fierce cry behind him startled Thorin, and he spun around, his sword raised, just in time to block a blow from an orc attempting to decapitate him from behind. But as he turned on another, panting for breath, the adrenaline rushing through his veins, he froze.

An ornate dagger was held in an orc's hand, black blood dried on its blade, and Thorin couldn't breathe. He knew that dagger. He had crafted it for Dis on her wedding day, and she had carried it with her ever since.

The blood was roaring in his ears as that beautiful dagger, caked with orc blood, was raised into the air in a filthy hand, and Thorin knew that he was its intended victim. And as the sharp blade began its deadly descent, he felt his chest begin to heave as fury rolled through him in powerful waves.

His little sister was gone – _dead _– because of the heinous creatures before him, and he didn't even know which one had killed her. Which had shot the fatal arrow. But he knew that they had killed her. And he knew that if they ever stumbled across his nephews, still just babies, they would slay them too, without even a second thought, without a shred of mercy.

His heart felt ready to burst from his chest in rage and grief, and Thorin moved faster than he had thought possible. Without conscious thought, he saw the orc fall to the ground before him, and snatched Dis's dagger from its limp hand, tucking it into his belt. A voice was snarling battle cries and curses in Khuzdul, and it took him a few moments to realize it was his own. All that he felt was the burn in his arms as he twirled his weapons expertly through the air, felling orcs with every motion, and the ache in his chest as his heart bled for the ones he had lost.

His arms felt heavy with the weight of Dis's limp form, one that he had laid gently on the ground only a few hours ago, and new images flashed into Thorin's mind: Fili and Kili, their bloody forms sprawled over the ground, still and pale in death. Rage was blinding him, as the desire – no, the _need_ – to protect his nephews flooded him, and a primal sort of bloodlust seared his body. He knew no pain, no exhaustion, no fear. Only a grim, implacable determination. There was a threat to his people, to his family, and he would see to it that it was wiped out.

-:-

Bofur frowned, the light of the candle dancing on his face. When he concentrated, he could hear the sounds of the battle raging up above the ground. This was not good. He knew Thorin's strategy would have included keeping the orcs away from the homes – if they could hear the fighting from below ground, then it was much closer than it had been intended to be. Hopefully the boys didn't pick up on it. He didn't know how he would think of a good story to explain the sounds of dwarves and men screaming battle cries…and other things.

He came back to the present with a start, remembering that Fili had asked him something, and was now staring at him oddly.

"That, lad, is a flute," Bofur explained, letting Fili run his hands wonderingly over the smooth wooden instrument. "You blow into this hole, here, and you hold your fingers over the others. And you can make music."

Fili passed the flute along to Kili, who had been reaching out for it, and turned his attention back to Bofur. "Did you make it?"

"A few years ago, yes," Bofur nodded, his hat flopping around with the movement. Fili giggled.

"How long does it take?"

"Not too long," Bofur said, stretching his right leg out before him and resting his elbow on the left knee, unconsciously mirroring Fili's position, and took the flute back, running a finger lightly over the smooth golden wood. "You have to find the right wood though, that is the problem. I like to use maple wood, it gives the flute a bright but sweet sound, you see?" Fili nodded, and Bofur continued. "Once you do, the rest is relatively easy. You hollow out the wood, and then – no, lad, don't touch that!" He snatched the dagger he kept in his belt out of Kili's small fingers, which had evidently been on a pilfering search.

Kili's lower lip began trembling dangerously as the pretty dagger was taken from him, and Fili nimbly plucked the flute from Bofur's fingers, thinking of a way to distract his baby brother. Putting his lips to the spot Bofur had indicated, Fili randomly splayed a few fingers over the holes and blew, creating a loud, discordant sound.

Kili giggled, and Fili grinned proudly, but Bofur was panicking. "No, lad, not now! Your uncle might hear it!"

"Good," Fili said decisively, Kili nodding his head vigorously beside him. "This is boring, and Kili's scared of the dark anyway. Can't we just leave?"

"In a little bit," Bofur said desperately, trying not to just reach out and grab the flute from the child. That would arouse his suspicions for sure. But Fili, instead of getting distracted, blew through the flute again, this time positioning his fingers again, succeeding in creating a sound only slightly more pleasant than the first time.

"I try?" Kili asked excitedly, and Fili was just helping Kili wrap his hands around the flute when a series of booming thuds almost directly above them made them both freeze.

"Is that Uncle Thorin?" Fili perked up, and Bofur struggled to pull himself together and hide his fear. There had been multiple sets of footsteps above – at least two. Thorin did not have that many feet.

"Quiet," Bofur hissed, trying to imitate Thorin. It came out authoritatively enough that both the boys fell silent. He pulled his sword from his belt, rising up into a crouch, putting himself between the young dwarflings and the entrance to the hideout, hoping the orcs – if he was right and there were orcs above them – wouldn't find them. But if they did, he would be ready.

There was silence, and Bofur could practically hear his heart thumping wildly. Fili and Kili were dead silent behind him – he had a feeling they knew that something wasn't right. He stayed there, frozen in the semidarkness, waiting.

-:-

The main advantage the Uruk-hai had over the dwarves was their height, but the dwarves' fighting blood was roused. Thorin knew the orcs had little chance of beating his soldiers this night – he could hear the dwarven bloodlust in every war cry that was loosed over the clashing foes.

Occasionally the twang of a bow would sound out, but it was rare. Dwarves were not known for their archery skills, and the snipers that Thorin had placed up on the rooftops had stopped firing the moment the dwarves had mixed in with the orc pack. There was too much of a chance that they would hit one of their own.

Thorin had received a minor wound on his left bicep, but he ignored the stinging, hefting his weapons and preparing another strike. There were so many orcs…but their numbers were being decimated by the second. _And this_, Thorin growled in his mind, _Is what the fury of the dwarves looks like_.

Blond hair flashed before him, as a dwarf with hair similar to Fili's, although not quite as bright, fell, an orc's knife embedded up to its hilt in his chest. Thorin stared, trying to fight off the shock. The hair had reminded him so forcibly of Fili that for a moment he thought his nephew was lying there at his feet, bleeding, dead. Like Dis.

That was Thorin's mistake.

Paralyzed, he stood there, staring, his heart thumping in panic. It couldn't be Fili, Fili was only seven, and he was inside…but the fear wouldn't be shaken. Suddenly, he saw out of the corner of his eye the flash of a blade, catching the light, and he knew even as he shook himself out of his shock and turned to face the blow, bringing up his own sword, that he was too slow. There was no time – and no space – to dodge. His end was coming towards him, the blade glistening with red blood. Dwarven blood. It had liked the taste, and was now coming for him. Coming for more.

Thorin turned slightly as the sword slashed towards him, gasping with the pain as it sliced into his side. But his small movement had allowed him to escape part of the attack, and without hesitation he brought his axe up, bashing in the orc's skull, fighting for breath as he felt his body become wet. He put his hand to his side; it was glistening a bright red when he brought it back.

No.

Someone was shouting his name, but Thorin couldn't think. He looked down, saw the blond dwarf lying dead there before him, and dropped to his knees, dizzy from a loss of blood. The pain was beginning to set in, a dull ache that he knew would soon grow into a burning agony. Had Dis felt such pain when she died? He had failed to protect her. Failed as a brother, and was now failing as an uncle. Was he about to see his little sister again? Would she forgive him for leaving her children alone in a cruel world they knew nothing of? Would Fili remember his face clearly twenty years from now? Would Kili remember him at all? Or would he become just a memory, a hazy one at that, for the younger child completely nonexistent, like their parents? They were too young to lose so much, but Thorin was losing the will and strength to fight.

The world tipped sideways, and Thorin collapsed, biting his lip to keep from groaning as his side throbbed angrily. The light brown, nearly golden hair of the slain dwarf swam before his eyes, and Thorin heard a single word slip from his own lips, spoken with as much anguish as if it was his nephew who lay there by his side, joining him in death. "Fili."

Someone was lifting his body up, and Thorin felt something light brush against his face, and knew, even though his eyes were closed, the lids so heavy he could not open them, that it was the knot Kili had affectionately added to his hair before he had left the boys. And his lips moved again, desperately, the breath fighting to get past his throat as the memory of his nephews in his arms threatened to drown him in his longing to see them again, at least one last time. "Kili."

-:-

Without warning, the small doorway leading into the hideout was smashed into bits, and behind Bofur the dwarflings screamed in terror as bits of broken wood rained down on them. "Get back!" Bofur shouted at the children, brandishing his blade as three orcs forced their way through. He rushed them, his blade cutting easily through the first one, watching it fall at his feet. But now the other two knew he was there.

Bofur closed with the first, their blades clashing as they fought, and internally he cursed his luck. There were two orcs – Uruk-hai, on top of that – and he was only one dwarf. But he would be damned if they were about to kill him and then his nephews. All three of them had a lot of life left to live. He still had to teach Fili to play a flute properly, and Thorin would never forgive him if his nephews died.

He didn't think he would forgive himself.

But as he focused on keeping the second orc from gutting him like a fish, Bofur lost track of the third.

Fili's heart was in his mouth as he dragged Kili back into the farthest corner, shoving his little brother behind him, trying to block Kili's view of what was happening with his own body. He had never seen creatures like these before, but he could guess. Orcs. But where had they come from? Fili wanted to shout for help, scream for Uncle Thorin, but fear had frozen his tongue in place.

But he could see that Bofur was having a difficult time holding back two at once, and so Fili turned back to his brother, who was cowering, wide-eyed, behind him. "I'll be back in a second," Fili whispered, and dashed forward, picking up something Bofur had dropped on the ground before retreating back to hide with his brother, hoping the semidarkness was cloaking them.

His hopes didn't last. The last orc to enter slipped past Bofur, advancing on them, its teeth bared in a feral grin, and Kili whimpered audibly, pressing himself into Fili, who had no idea what to do. He was only seven! How was he supposed to keep this hulking monster at bay, if even Bofur, who was fully grown, hadn't?

But the candlelight shone on the orc's knife as it raised it, licking its lips in anticipation, and Kili was shaking behind him, and suddenly Fili felt his breath begin to come short. His brother was in danger. His baby brother, who sometimes drove him crazy, but who he loved. Who he couldn't imagine living without. Who always trusted him to be there, to help him, to protect him when there was a spider under the bed or "golbins" in his dreams. And Fili didn't even think about what to do as the orc's blade began to move.

With a yell, Bofur stabbed the orc he was dueling through the chest, for a moment rejoicing in his victory before a chill seeped through his heart. Two orcs lay dead in front of him, but three had entered. He whirled around in time to see all three figures behind him move at once.

And two screams rang out in the underground hideaway as two bodies fell to the floor, the air thick and reeking with the stench of blood.

**A/N: I think this is the longest chapter I've written so far! Yaay! Please tell me what you think – the review box is right below this! As always, I am open to suggestions and everything – I've had some that I'm still working on incorporating, the time needs to be right and then they will be there, I promise. I haven't forgotten. **

**Oh, and in honor of Aidan Turner, everyone go listen to Let's Go Surfing by The Drums! He said it's one of his favorite songs in an interview once, and I love it. **

**Thank you for reading, love you all! Reviews please :D**


	7. Get Up

**A/N: Couple quick things. I realized recently that some people have added my story to some communities – I don't know who you are, but thank you for that! And THANK YOU all my beautiful amazing lovely reviewers for all your reviews – I LOVED all of them! They were so wonderful and just…ahhh I don't even know what to say. Virtual hugs for you all, and cupcakes! A special shout-out to Tripping55 for her fantastic review and all her help and support as I was struggling with this chapter – thank you! And to all my anons, who I can't respond to, but who I want to thank for leaving reviews. And just all of you. This chapter is for you guys who reviewed, I hope you like it! I would give everyone a shout-out, but then we'd be here too long, so THANKYOUILOVEYOU. And thank you everyone else who read and subscribed and favorited! Oh and happy late Valentine's Day! :D **

**The title comes from the song Get up, by Barcelona. I suggest you listen to it! I really really hope you like this chapter – not sure if it's exactly enjoyable, I struggled while writing it, but I hope it's alright! Thank you again!**

Get Up

_Get up, I need you…_

Bofur stared in horror, unable to believe what his eyes were showing him, because there was no way such a small body could have contained so much blood…With a jolt, he remembered the orc, but it lay dead, unmoving, and Bofur's feet seemed fixed to the ground. He couldn't move.

Fili was standing, his expression twisted with shock and pain, and Bofur's mind rewound the last few moments, replaying them, as he tried to figure out what had happened. The orc had been advancing on the boys, and Bofur had killed the second orc and turned in time to see Fili raise his chin defiantly, a gesture reminiscent of his uncle, and Bofur had suddenly seen that the boy had held his dagger – he must've dropped it, but how had Fili even had a chance to pick it up?

That wasn't important. As Fili had made his decision, he had leaped up towards the orc, driving the dagger into its body with every ounce of strength in his body. While he did so, Fili hadn't accounted for the blade that the beast swung towards him as he attacked – but someone else had.

Before Bofur had even been able to cry out a warning, Kili threw himself between the sharp knife and his elder brother, falling limply to the ground as Fili screamed in denial, and the orc had staggered back, the dagger buried to the hilt in its ugly sternum, and collapsed. Bofur couldn't be sure now, but he had a feeling he had been screaming too.

Fili was frozen, gaping down at his brother's body, and Bofur's mind was working furiously, trying to figure out what to do as a bright scarlet liquid seeped from the deep gash in Kili's chest. He needed to get the child to the healers, and quickly – unless he was already dead, but Bofur refused to believe that. But what if the fighting was still continuing outside? How could he carry an injured dwarfling through a battle?

A low moan cut through the silence. Fili dropped to his knees beside his bleeding brother, shaking him desperately, only making the blood flow faster but not knowing what else to do. "Kili!" The raw scream tore itself from Fili's throat, and it snapped Bofur into action.

"Fili, stay here!" he ordered, swooping Kili up into his arms and breaking into a run, hoping the blond prince wasn't following him. In a few strides he was leaving Dis's room and then her house, trying to ignore the way the baby dwarf's blood was soaking through his clothes, making his arms and chest warm, wet, and sticky.

Bofur leaped over an orc's corpse, noticing as he did so that the streets were littered with the bodies. Thankfully very few dwarves lay prone and cold on the ground – most were huddled together, comparing injuries or laughing. The cold outside air whipped against Bofur's face as he ran, and he cradled Kili close to him, sliding his palm against the baby's neck. Incredibly, a pulse still beat there – faint, irregular, but still a pulse. A jolt of hope sparked inside him, and he ran faster, searching the throngs of dwarves for the one he wanted.

Suddenly he caught sight of an iron staff and standout shock of graying hair, paired with a very distinctive beard, and Bofur raised his voice. "Oin!"

The partially deaf dwarf turned, his eyes widening to such a size that it would have been comical had not Thorin's sister-son been bleeding to death in his arms. "Follow me," Oin commanded, ducking into a nearby house. "In there! Put him on the bed, I'll be right back."

Bofur kicked open the door of the indicated room and entered, placing the unnaturally pale dwarfling on the neatly made bed, his heart pounding. Was the child still alive? Bofur wanted to place his hand back on the tiny, oh-so-fragile neck and find out, but his own skin felt clammy and he could feel himself shivering as a cold sweat broke out on his brow. He didn't want to find out. What if Kili had died? How on earth would he face Thorin? How would he explain to Fili that the boy had lost his other half?

But the suspense was more than he could stand, and finally, his heart in his mouth, Bofur leaned down and pressed two fingers to the side of Kili's neck. There was nothing.

A pained cry escaped his lips and Bofur's fingers delved into the toddler's neck with greater urgency, greater pressure, and he gasped with relief when he felt something there, soft but still pounding. The child was nothing if not tenacious.

"Mister Bofur?" A small voice came from behind him, and Bofur jumped. There, standing innocently in the doorway, his eyes large and fearful and his cheeks stained with still-falling tears, was Fili.

"Fili, how did you –"

"I followed the…" Fili trailed off, his lips quivering as another large tear traversed the short length of his cheek before sliding down his neck, and Bofur winced. He knew what the boy was refusing to say. He had followed the trail of blood. "Where's Kili?"

"He's here," Bofur said, reaching down to lift Fili up so he could see, when heavy footsteps sounded behind the boy, and suddenly several dwarves crowded in, Oin among them.

Bofur straightened as they entered, recognizing all the dwarves as healers. "Can you heal him?" he asked softly, not wanting Fili to hear.

But none of the others bothered to keep their voices down.

"This looks bad," one of them commented, his brows coming together in a worried frown. "How did this happen?"

"He took an orc blade for his brother," Bofur explained quietly, still shocked by what the child – still a babe, really – had done. How could a two-year-old even consider giving his life for his brother? Bofur didn't even know if he was capable of such self-sacrificing love, and he was fully grown, with a lifetime to get to know and love his brother. Kili had acted on pure instinct; there was no way he had had time to even think about what to do. From that moment on, Bofur knew that although Kili spent most of his time being a typical baby dwarfling, the dark-haired nephew of Thorin Oakenshield had earned his undying respect.

"That's not good," another healer muttered, bending down to examine the wound, pulling aside Kili's torn tunic to get a better look. "Those are seldom clean – this is bound to be infected."

Panic and bile were rising together in Bofur's throat as the smell of blood and something worse – _infection _– assailed his nose, when he remembered something with a start. He glanced down to see Fili standing between the healers' legs, trying desperately to see his little brother but failing. He was too small – so small still that none of the other dwarves had noticed him. But Oin was standing between Bofur and Fili; there was no way he could get him out without missing out on the discussion, and at this moment his priority was ascertaining whether the youngest member of Thorin's remaining family would survive.

"Can you save him?" Bofur demanded, raising his eyebrows. How much longer would they dawdle? The child was _dying. _They could babble on later!

The healer opposite him, the one who had asked how the wound had been received, looked straight at him, and Bofur was shocked to see tears glistening in the other dwarf's eyes. "We will try," the dwarf said softly, sorrow roughening his voice. "But we cannot be certain if he will survive. Even grown dwarves find it difficult to heal from such injuries, and for such a young one…"

"We had better start," Oin interrupted, and Bofur was left wondering whether the partially deaf dwarf had even been listening. "How are we –"

"No poppy juice, he's too small for it – it may put him in a permanent coma," another healer said decisively, creating an instant uproar.

"If he wakes during the process, the pain could kill him!" one dwarf roared, and instantly Fili began sobbing – this seemed to be the only part of the discussion he had heard and understood, and the din increased in volume as the healers realized that a child had been listening – and not just any child, but the brother of the child whose life was in such peril. And Thorin's nephew.

Bofur tried to lift Fili to carry him out of the room, but the dwarfling dodged him and tried to climb up the side of the bed, shrieking his brother's name as if his life depended on it. Another healer scooped the golden-haired child up, and Bofur's heart wrenched painfully in his chest as he heard Fili howling for Kili as he was carried out of the room.

"There appear to be bits of the blade and dirt inside the wound," Oin muttered, probing the bloodied gash gently. "This might take a while. Bofur, would you hand me that vial behind you?"

Bofur complied and then stepped back as the healers gathered around the bed, praying to Aulë that the child would not wake until they had finished. And what were the chances of Kili waking up anyway? He had lost too much blood to regain consciousness just yet.

"We need to staunch the blood flow first," one of the healers was saying, "This should help with that. Now has anyone got…"

-:-

The healer who had carried Fili out of the room simply deposited him outside the door and then reentered it, locking it from the inside before Fili could dart back in. The dwarfling was pounding against the door, but no matter how much he shouted for his baby brother, there was no response, and finally Fili gave up, slumping against the wood behind him, hugging his knees to his chest, his body shaking.

How was he going to tell his mother what had happened? Kili was his responsibility – she had never explicitly told him so, apart from when she had let him carry the baby around before he could even crawl – but Fili had always known it. And now Kili was _dying_; he had heard them say it, and it was his fault!

If he had just remembered what Uncle Thorin had always told him while teaching him sword fighting, none of this would have happened. Fili could hear his uncle's voice as if the man himself was sitting beside him, saying, "Never let your guard down, Fili. You must make sure that you are keeping your every side protected when you advance, or you could find yourself in a much more difficult situation than you'd like. You exposed your side to my attack when you did that. Now back up, bend your knees – yes, just like that – sword up, let's try this again."

What Fili wouldn't give for this to have been just another training exercise, where the moment he had made a mistake Uncle Thorin would stop him, correct him, and then they would start over, no damage having been done. But this time it had been – and not to him. At least if he had been injured he could safely say it was his own fault, but Kili had been forced to protect him from his own stupidity!

Fili glanced down at his boots, feeling sick as he noticed the red stains on them. Blood. His brother's blood. He couldn't even bear to think of the name, let alone speak it…at this moment, _Kili _held too much pain for him to even hear the sound, and Fili rubbed his stinging eyes furiously, gasping for breath as his body was racked with dry sobs, and even though it felt like betraying his brother to admit it, Fili was wishing that his mother or uncle was there. He was supposed to be the older brother, the one in charge, but he didn't know what to do – he couldn't even get inside the room his brother was in! At least Uncle Thorin could make them open the door. They just ignored Fili, like they had even while he was inside.

Voices rose in the room behind him, and Fili turned, pressing his ear against the door, trying to listen through the wood. They were arguing, he could tell that much, and he wanted to scream at them not to argue while his brother's life was hanging in the balance. Desperately, Fili flung himself against the door, but he did nothing except give himself a painfully throbbing shoulder. The voices had quieted down, but the silence was even worse than the dispute. With Kili around, silence had become somewhat of a rarity in Fili's life, and it terrified him as it prowled towards him, like a predator smelling a drop of blood and sensing its victim's vulnerability, its gaping jaws opening to swallow him whole.

He curled up against the door, burying his face against his knees, wrapping his arms around himself and finally letting the tears fall as he abandoned every illusion he'd had of being able to help his brother. All he could do was pray everything was okay, and wish with every inch of his being that his mother and uncle found him soon. The thought of leaving to find one of them – if his mother had even arrived yet – didn't occur to Fili. He wouldn't have dreamed of abandoning his place by the door that was keeping him from his brother.

-:-

Thorin was cold. He knew that he was cold more than he felt it, because to be honest, he couldn't really feel anything. He was detached, isolated. In the dark. Was this death? Instinct told him that it wasn't, but in that case his mind wasn't sure what to make of his current reality. Everything was dark, and he felt strangely disembodied, as if he had lost all connection to his body. When he tried to open his eyes or move his hands, he couldn't remember how – he couldn't even feel any part of his physical form.

He could remember being stabbed, and Thorin knew he should be in pain, but there wasn't any. It was there at the fringes of his consciousness, but if he tried to approach it, it vanished. Which suited him. He'd known pain enough not to want any more.

Something was niggling at the corner of his mind, and Thorin tried desperately to focus on it, because something was wrong. Badly wrong. But the first clear thought that came to him brought him a name: Fili. And that name brought with it a memory – and it brought with it light and color to the dark space that confined him.

_Thorin dismounted gracefully from his pony as he and Frerin brought their company of ten others dwarves, including Balin and Dwalin, to a halt inside the dwarven settlement. It had been too long since they'd been gone – _

_ "Thirteen months, Thorin," Frerin said quietly, falling into step beside him. A smile worked onto his face. "It was so damn cold when we left – remember all the snow?" His smile grew as he remembered something else. "Do you think Dis is still with child?" _

_ Their sister had told them of her pregnancy shortly before they had left to find a new home for their uprooted people, and although the brothers had been loath to leave, it was their duty as princes to build a better life for their people than they currently had. And although Frerin and Thorin agreed that the Ered Luin were a viable option, both the brothers were of the opinion that Moria was preferable. They simply had to convince their father and grandfather of it. _

_ "Probably," Thorin nodded. It was likely, after all. He was no expert, but he was fairly sure that most dwarven pregnancies lasted about eleven months, so she shouldn't have given birth yet. Unless of course she had told him only after a few months, in which case…_

_ "We're going to be uncles!" Frerin whooped, punching the air and grinning widely. _

_ Thorin rolled his eyes at his younger brother, laughing when Frerin shoved him in the shoulder. "Yes, we are," he said, wondering if he would drop the baby and then be banned from ever holding it again. _

_ "I bet he'll look just like me," Frerin said, his brown eyes glittering as he grinned. "Best-looking baby the world has ever seen. I'll pity the boy if he looks like you, though, Thorin. Always running around looking angry." _

_ Thorin scoffed. "I don't always look angry, and if the boy has your nose, Frerin, he will be forever ashamed." _

_ Frerin felt his nose and scowled. "Just because it's not quite as straight as yours," he huffed. "He'll like me better than you, just wait and see." _

_ "Firnen looks nothing like us," Thorin reminded Frerin. "The child may not resemble us at all." _

_ "Nonsense," Frerin said confidently, "The child will be of Durin's line. If he doesn't look at least a little like us, I will eat my boot." _

_ Thorin chuckled, almost hoping their nephew didn't resemble them at all so Frerin would be forced to make good on his inane bet. And then something else struck him. "Ah, and what if it's a girl?" _

_ Frerin's grin only widened. "The girls love me, brother. More than you." Bending down to the side of the road, he plucked a daffodil, twirling it between his fingers, enjoying the fresh air of the spring evening and the exuberance of the blossom in his hand and it danced in the breeze._

_ Not deigning to even respond to his blockhead of a brother, Thorin stepped up to Dis's door and knocked, ignoring Frerin whistling an irritatingly repetitive tune behind him. _

_ The door opened in moments, and the princes' dark-blond brother-in-law Firnen stood framed in the doorway. For a moment he gaped, and then he grinned. "Dis!" he bellowed, ushering the brothers inside, "Would you come here a moment?" He turned back to them, clasping Thorin's hand and then giving Frerin a tight hug – he and Frerin had always been closer, maybe because their names were so similar. Besides, Thorin had a tendency to intimidate his brother-in-law. Once a protective older brother, always a protective older brother. _

_ "Thorin!" Dis flung herself into her brother's arms, clasping him tightly. "Thirteen months you two have been gone," she scolded, shoving Firnen away so she could hug her other older brother. "What on earth have you been doing?" _

_ "That's a tale for later," Frerin said, trying to twine the daffodil into one of his protesting brother-in-law's braids. Thorin rolled his eyes, ignoring the twinge of regret he was feeling. Her stomach was flat. They had missed the child. _

_ Dis caught him looking, and smiled at Thorin. "There's someone Firnen and I want you two to meet," she said softly, leaning into her husband as he wrapped an arm around her. _

_ Minutes later they were all in a different room, and Dis was reaching down into a small crib by the fireplace, lifting out a tiny bundle in a rather fuzzy blue blanket. "Thorin, Frerin, this is Fili," she beamed as her brothers crowded around to see. _

_ Thorin smiled ruefully as he saw the bright golden hair on the baby's brow. He _had _gone on Firnen, although his hair was even brighter than his father's. But the nose was very definitely of Durin's line – straight and regal, the way it should be. _

_ "He doesn't have my hair," Frerin pouted, and Firnen laughed. _

_ "He's _my _son, remember? Why would he ever want _your_ hair?" _

_ Thorin ignored the quarreling two behind him, instead reaching out and gently stroking the baby's soft cheek. His calloused finger looked so rough next to the fair, unblemished skin. "Fili," Thorin repeated. "It's a good name." He paused, itching to ask but not sure if it would be tactful to, considering he hadn't been there for his own nephew's birth. "How long ago –"_

_ "He'll be three months old in a week," Dis said, rocking her baby gently. _

_ "I am sorry," Thorin said quietly. "I wanted to be here when –"_

_ "It's alright." Dis had always been quick to forgive him. "You had your duty to do, after all." She grinned up at him; the rascally expression reminded him of their younger years, when she had come up with one idea after another that had invariably gotten them into trouble, including "borrowing" their grandfather's crown and giving it to Thorin's baby pony to wear instead. Minty had been pleased – Thror had not. "Do you know what color his eyes are?" _

_ "No," Thorin said, involuntarily glancing over at Frerin, who had brown eyes, and Firnen, whose were a startling green. _

_ "You're in luck," Dis laughed. "I think Firnen and Frerin are being too loud. He's waking, look." _

_ Sure enough, tiny, chubby fists emerged from the blanket as the baby yawned widely before his eyes cracked open, and Thorin gasped. Intelligent, piercing blue eyes stared at him, lashed with gold, and Dis smiled at her brother triumphantly. _

_ "He has our eyes," she offered, seeing in Thorin's eyes a pride and love that made her own heart swell. _

_ "It matters not whose features he has," Thorin said quietly, letting the baby's fingers grasp his index finger tightly. Fili gurgled, and Dis rocked him, humming softly. _

_ "Would you like to hold him?" Dis asked, laughing when Thorin gaped at her. "You won't drop him, I promise. Just copy me. Hold your arms like this, and –" She deposited the tiny dwarfling in his arms, and Thorin stared down at his new sister-son. _

_ He felt the twinge of regret that he hadn't been there when the child had been born, but more than that, there was a sense of purpose rising within him. As Fili began babbling, his clear blue eyes roving over his uncle's face, Thorin smiled at the babe in his arms. One day he would return to Erebor. He would win it back. Fili had a kingdom to inherit. _

For a moment Thorin basked in the warm glow of that beautiful evening. But then another reality came crashing down upon him: everyone from that memory, except for Fili, was dead. And the boy still didn't know that Dis was gone. How was he to tell him? Thorin had been the bearer of bad news once already. He didn't want to do it again.

_Thorin stood outside the tent, drying his tears and hoping his eyes weren't noticeably red. He had finally gotten Dis settled in her tent, along with the new baby. She had been weeping hysterically until about five minutes ago, when she and the bawling baby had finally foregone tears for sleep. Now he was outside Balin's tent, where he had moved Fili until Dis had calmed. He didn't want the child to see his mother in such a state. _

_ When he stepped in, he found Fili sitting cross-legged on the floor beside Balin, listening eagerly to a story about how Balin had caught his first fish when he was fifteen summers old. Thorin cleared his throat, and Balin smoothly excused himself, leaving Fili looking confused. Thorin sat wearily next to his nephew, letting the child cuddle up next to him, yawning. _

_ "Fili," Thorin rasped, and then cleared his throat. "Fili," he said again. _

_ "Unca Thorin," the sleepy dwarfling mumbled, a small fist clenching on top of Thorin's knee. _

_ "Fili, your father…" Thorin choked on the words, feeling them ramming up against each other in his throat as his mouth refused to give voice to them. How in Mahal's name was he to tell his sister-son – still a baby, by Aulë's tears! – that Firnen was never going to come home? How could he do this without destroying forever the exhilarating sense of invincibility that lends childhood its beauty, ensconcing it in the mind as a time of exquisite joy and freedom? No child deserves to have his joy torn from him while he is still so young, has so much more to discover and wonder at. The day death becomes a reality is the day childhood's innocence dies. _

_ Two blue eyes peeked at Thorin over his knee, brightening instantly. "Daddy?" _

_ Thorin's heart broke in that moment, and he gathered Fili close, running a finger over one of the neat braids that Firnen had twined the golden strands into that morning. He didn't want to say it, but the boy needed to know. _

_ "Your father isn't coming home anymore." Each word tasted like a lime squeezed over Thorin's tongue, so sour he wanted to spit it out, never have to fully comprehend the flavor. But he had to. Because it wasn't just Firnen who wasn't coming home. _

_ Fili's eyes narrowed slightly as he stared at Thorin, puzzled. "Where he go?" _

_ Thorin had his eyes squeezed shut, but a hot, traitorous tear seeped out from beneath a closed lid, and he felt the child stiffen in his arms. _

_ "Unca Thorin?" There was so much fear in those four syllables that Thorin wrapped Fili tightly in his arms, kissing the top of his head desperately. _

_ "Your father is never coming back," Thorin said, his voice shaking with pain. He had never been too close to Firnen, but they had been family. And he loved Fili so much…_

_ "But why?" Fili nearly screamed, gripping Thorin's hair tightly in his fingers as he stood on his uncle's knee, identical pairs of blue eyes staring into each other. _

_ "He's dead," Thorin confessed, unable to meet his nephew's gaze. "I'm sorry, Fili. I'm sorry." _

_ Later on, Thorin didn't remember how many times he had attempted to explain the reality of Firnen's death to his nephew before Fili had finally cottoned on, or how long they both sat there, weeping into each other's hair, clutching each other as if there was no one left for them to hold but the person in their arms. Thorin's fears that Fili wouldn't even want to see his face after the news were groundless; the child clung to him tightly, and Thorin did his best to comfort his nephew through his own tears. _

_ What Thorin had never known was how closely grief and fear were intertwined. Now that his family had been shattered so completely in the course of only one day, he cradled his nephew all the more tenderly, with a love he feared he had never shown before. _

_ Because this day had brought home a terrifying reality: if the orcs had found the tents, if they had ventured beyond the battlefield, Fili could easily have been added to the list of the dead. It was luck that his nephew had survived – the dwarven camp had been barely a fifteen-minute trek from where the battle had taken place. At least Firnen and the others had been able to fight for their lives. They had consciously taken the gamble, and had lost. But if it had been Fili's corpse instead of Frerin's that Thorin had screamed at to open his eyes again, the body of an innocent child who had so much of life left to live…He would probably have lost his mind. As his father had done. _

_ The grief and fear and relief and love and a couple other emotions he couldn't even identify all vied for the upper hand inside him; Thorin couldn't understand what he was feeling at that moment, except for that his heart felt as if it had been compressed to the extent that he could barely breathe, and he felt unnaturally dizzy. _

_ Minutes ago he would gladly have given his life for his brother's, but now Thorin was selfishly glad that he had survived the battle. Because if he hadn't, he wouldn't have been able to hold Fili like this. He couldn't even remember the last time he had, and that more than anything threatened to break him. What if his nephew grew up unused to any affection from him? He knew that was a very real possibility; he was not like Dis or Frerin, affection was not as natural to him as it was to them, and he was about to become the official king of their people. His shoulders were about to be burdened with a weight greater than that of little Fili riding on his shoulders, and Thorin wasn't sure if he could balance his two lives as king and uncle. _

Later on he had introduced Fili to Kili, a moment that was bittersweet, given how much Kili resembled his dead Uncle Frerin – and how little he resembled his own father. But that particular memory defied Thorin's attempts to immerse himself in it, to force it to capture him within its vividly colored depths the way the previous two had. Instead, he was left with an unbearably sour taste in his mouth. He was slipping – and he knew he was close to death, very close.

Fili's blue eyes stood out clearly as he tried to mentally picture his boys; those blue eyes morphed into Dis, and there she was again, the light in her eyes fading as she lay dying in his arms, and he remembered.

_Be strong for my sons_.

He had broken enough of his promises. He had watched enough of his family members die. He knew how it felt to be abandoned by those you love; to shake their cold, bloodied bodies and scream for them to wake up again so you don't have to be alone in a cold, friendless world that cares naught for who you are and who you love. And never in a million years would he abandon his young nephews to such a fate.

Thorin growled in his mind, forcing the scattered fragments of himself back together. A pathetic little scratch had never taken him down before, and it wasn't going to start now. With a gargantuan effort, he focused his mind, determined to reattach it to his body, and suddenly his eyelids snapped open and he could _feel _again.

For a moment the world was silent, and Thorin sat up. He was fully dressed, but his torso was bare, a large white bandage wrapped around his middle, thankfully stained only lightly with blood. His shirt and coat were draped over a chair, and Thorin gritted his teeth before standing up. His vision blurred and black spots danced before his eyes, but he had endured worse pain before. A bowl of poppy seeds caught his eye, and he popped a few in his mouth, knowing it would take a few moments before the pain would begin to abate.

His shaking fingers had barely finished slipping his clothes on when the throbbing in his head and side lessened ever so slightly, and his ears stopped buzzing. That was when the unmistakable sound of a child sobbing reached him.

Thorin tried to stride from his room, losing his balance as he did so and staggering into the doorframe, cursing his disorientation and pain. But as he glanced down the hall, he caught side of a familiar blond head, the small shoulders shaking as the crying continued.

"Fili!" In moments he was crouching down beside the child, pulling his sister-son against him, shushing him gently. "What's the –"

"Kili's dying!" Fili screamed through his tears, flinging his arms around his uncle's neck and holding on so tightly Thorin was sure the boy would throttle him.

"What?" Thorin's throat was so dry the word was barely a whisper, but Fili hadn't even stopped to listen to him.

"He's bleeding – I'm sorry, Uncle Thorin! – he won't wake up – they won't let me in – I shouldn't have moved – Kili's dying!" Fili's hysterical shouts crashed like an ocean of sound against Thorin's ears, but at the moment he didn't care what had happened so much as what was going to. The one thing he had gleaned from his nephew's distraught explanation – if the combination of loud sobs and choked screams was any explanation at all – was that _someone _had separated Fili from his brother by means of the door in front of him. And that Kili was…no, he couldn't be.

Thorin rapped authoritatively on the door, but when it remained closed, Fili gave another wail, and something inside Thorin snapped. Forgetting his own wound and the intermittent twinges of a pain too acute to be merely pain but dulled enough by the poppy seeds not to be agony, Thorin rammed his shoulder hard into the door, and the wood splintered as he crashed his body into it a second time. With a third try, he was in.

"For Mahal's sake –" Thorin was brushing healers aside as if parting stalks of wheat, but his heart stopped dead in his chest when he saw the tiny dwarfling lying still on the bed, the bedsheets around him stained with a deep, glistening wet crimson. Fili moaned softly, clinging to him, and Thorin stared down at the bandage that Oin was wrapping with an awful sense of finality around his younger sister-son's chest. A chest that wasn't moving.

Oin glanced over at Fili and then gave a nearly imperceptible shake of his head, and Thorin understood. The healer would tell him nothing while Fili was still in the room.

"He'll be alright, Fili," Thorin whispered, trying to make his cracked, grief-stricken voice sound calm and reassuring. He knew he had failed as Fili's eyes crinkled shut, fat tears leaking out, but the boy began to panic only when Thorin began carrying him away from the bed.

"Kili!" Fili screamed, thrashing in Thorin's grip, trying desperately to break free and run to his brother. "Kili! Get up! Kili, please! I'm sorry! _Kili!_"

**A/N: Um. Not sure what to say about this chapter, so I won't say anything at all. I'm sorry I took so long to update – I had a really busy week at school, a lot of stressful days, and limited time to write. I really am sorry! Please leave me a review – I would LOVE to hear what you have to say, as I always do! Thank you all for reading, love you! The little box is right below ;)**


	8. Tears of an Angel

**A/N: I am ashamed of myself. It's been practically a month since I last updated, and I have no idea what to say for myself, except that school (especially my ridiculous Calculus class with my ridiculous teacher who seems to live to make life miserable) has gotten in the way, and the elusive, sneaky muse, despite various offerings of food from various reviewers, especially Tripping55, did not return to me until yesterday. And between yesterday and today, I wrote this. So um please try to forgive me! **

**Thank you thank you everyone who reviewed! It's always so wonderful to have reviewers who come back to review again, like a core support team that's always there for you! Much love for you all. Special shout-out to Tripping55 for the longest and most fantastic review I have ever received! You are awesome! All my anonymous reviewers, thank you! And my new reviewers, I hope to hear from you again! Just thank you everybody! The reviews rocked, and I love you guys! You inspire me so much more than you know. Really. Balloons and strawberries all around!**

**Eamane99, I'm sorry it took me this long to get back to you, but you're anonymous and therefore I can't respond except in an A/N. Yes, as long as you give me credit with the picture(s) you do, feel free to draw whatever you'd like! But link me to the DeviantArt page – I can't draw at all, but I'd love to see what you come up with! And thank you for all your consistent reviews!**

**Again, thank you all my lovely reviewers! You motivate me, and this chapter is for you. :)**

**The chapter title comes from Tears of an Angel, by RyanDan. They're identical twins singing the song, and it's BEAUTIFUL. Please please listen while reading, it fits perfectly with this chapter and the whole situation! I hope you enjoy it!**

Tears of an Angel

_I am here, don't you fear; Little one, don't let go…_

Attempting to ignore his heir's desperate screams, Thorin stepped over the ruins of the door and walked straight into Balin.

"Careful, laddie!" Balin protested, bending down to pick up his dropped axe and then freezing, his eyes flicking rapidly between the thrashing, howling Fili and Thorin's tensed face and reddened eyes.

"Watch Fili, don't let him inside. Fili, _quiet! _Kili will be fine." Without a word of explanation, he dropped his now quietly sobbing elder nephew into Balin's arms and stormed back into Kili's room. He wanted an explanation – and he was going to get it. _Now. _

"Oin," he said, the one word a command.

The healer stepped forward, pulling out his ear trumpet to ensure that he would hear whatever Thorin had to say – although, going by the king's thunderous expression, Thorin was probably going to begin shouting and cursing as soon as Balin had gotten Fili out of earshot, so the hearing would probably be a non-issue. "He's still alive," Oin began, seeing Thorin's shoulders relax nearly imperceptibly, before tensing again. The word _still _was not one that was particularly reassuring, and Oin knew it. "We managed to remove all the debris and dirt we could find from the wound, but infection is likely, although we have done our best to minimize it. We've done all we can at the moment…it's up to him now." Thorin blinked rapidly a few times, his mouth compressed into a hard line, and Oin patted his king on the shoulder. "He has a chance, Thorin. The lad is of your blood, after all. He's a fighter."

Thorin nodded, before clearing his throat and turning to Bofur, who paled visibly. "How?"

"I'm sorry." Bofur hung his head, preferring to watch his boots instead of see the grief and disappointment in the eyes of the dwarf before him. "I'm sorry, Thorin, it's my fault. Three of the orcs discovered where we were – I killed two, but the third slipped past me, and…the boys had been looking at my knife before, and I think I dropped it when the orcs came, and Fili picked it up." He looked up again. "You have a worthy heir, Thorin," he said, his voice cracked. "He made his first kill today, to save his brother. But the orc attacked at the same time Fili did, and Kili took the knife for his brother." He took a shaky breath, twisting the hem of his shirt between his fingers. "I am sorry, if I had paid better attention this would never have –"

"You did what you could," Thorin said hoarsely, his eyes glittering suspiciously with what looked like tears. "I do not blame you."

Bofur stared at the floor again. He didn't deserve Thorin's forgiveness, or his kindness. That brave little dwarfling would not be on the brink of death instead of the brink of life if it hadn't been for his stupidity – and Fili would not be screaming for his dying brother to get up if he had been more vigilant. The shame and guilt were crippling, and he wished Thorin had raged at him instead of forgiving. He would have felt less ashamed if his guilt had been acknowledged rather than brushed aside.

But something else had occurred to Thorin, and when he spoke a few moments later, his voice was low. Menacing. Terrifying. "Who left Fili outside on his own?"

No one responded, and Thorin cracked his knuckles, the sound ominously loud in the room. "Who left my sister-son out there _alone_, knowing that his brother was in here? Knowing that he knew what had happened?"

"I just didn't want him to watch what we were doing," the healer who had carried Fili out confessed, his voice quavering, wringing his hands.

With a reverberating thud, Thorin slammed the offending dwarf hard against the wall, his fingers curled into tight fists. "If you _ever_," he snarled, "do something so monumentally asinine again, I will personally make you wish you had never even tried. Am I clear?"

The dwarf nodded frantically, and Thorin released him, stepping back, his eyes moving slowly across to the prone form on the bed.

For a moment Thorin Oakenshield stood indecisively, his palms open, his hands hanging uselessly at his sides, staring helplessly at the tiny, pale, still form of his baby nephew lying prone on the sheets, their whiteness dashed with gouts of blood. Then he sat gingerly on the very edge of the bed, giving the others his back, and they all bent their heads into a bow he couldn't see before retreating, recognizing the silent dismissal.

Only Oin remained, lifting Kili gingerly for a moment to add a layer of clean bedding beneath the child, so that he wasn't lying in his own blood. Then he, too, left, but Thorin didn't seem to have noticed.

He gazed down at his little nephew, stroking the soft hair lightly, wanting to press the child to him and heal him just by the strength of his love, knowing it was impossible and hating that knowledge. He could hear the others leaving, but couldn't tear his eyes from Kili. It was impossible to believe that his baby nephew was so close to death, even harder to believe than the idea that his sister had passed. At least she had lived several years, had borne two beautiful children, had a husband she loved and a family that loved her; Kili had barely begun his life! It was cruel, so cruel, for him to be torn away so early.

His eyes were dry as his fingers continued running lightly over the brown strands of Kili's hair, and Thorin knew that he would weep only if Kili flew up to Aulë's halls – until then, he would cling to the badly worn threads of hope Oin had given him to grasp, however fragile they were. He could not say goodbye while his sister-son was still alive, not when the dwarfling might yet live.

"Wake up, Kili," he whispered, laying his hand flat against the petite head, so small that it fit snugly inside his palm. "You're not going to do this to Fili and me. Who's going to braid my hair for me if you're not here?" His lips quirked into a grief-stricken smile – he could still feel the misshapen lump Kili called a braid swinging against his cheek. And the tears came, finally, because the hopelessness of the situation was weighing down on him. He had caught a glimpse of Kili's injury while Oin had been wrapping the bandage around him with awful finality. A shroud. A last sacrament for the dead, for those with no hope. An empty, futile gesture.

No. He couldn't afford to think like that. Kili had always been the exuberant, rambunctious one – Fili had a mischievous streak, yes, but it had been dormant until his little brother had arrived, chock-full of terrible ideas that the two thought absolutely brilliant. Fili had taken to Kili in a way that Thorin was ashamed to recall he had not. It hadn't really been his fault as much as his fear that had gotten in the way…Mahal, he was no longer making any sense.

The first time Fili had ever seen Kili was the same day he had lost his father, and the new baby had been sleeping, alongside Dis, who was similarly engaged. Not wanting to wake either, since both had been wailing hysterically before exhaustion claimed them, Thorin had kept Fili quiet, and only allowed him to gaze down at his brother in silence for a few moments before taking him away. The next day was when Dis had shown Thorin, once again, that the women of Durin's line were just as courageous and hardy as the men, if not more. She had, once again, made him proud.

_Thorin watched Dis with narrowed eyes as she finished arranging her hair in some complex systems of braids twined together piled on her head, wondering where the sobbing woman of yesterday was. This morning Dis appeared much the same as ever, except that she was paler than usual and there were bags beneath her clear blue eyes. Glancing up in her mirror, she caught him looking. "Yes, Thorin?" _

_ He raised an eyebrow. _

_ "You look about ready to either smash something to pieces or go get a hug from Fili. I take it something is bothering you?" _

_ "I just…are you – I mean, how are –"_

_ "The same as I was yesterday," she said, her slender eyebrows coming together in a frown as she approached him, taking his hand in both of hers, carefully wrapping her fingers around his strong, calloused hand. "But I have two sons to care for," she continued, blinking away the single tear that burned in her eye, "And a brother who cannot be trusted to remind himself to eat and sleep if left to his own devices. I have mourned Firnen and our kin, and I will continue to do so. But I think Fili should meet his new brother now, don't you? And I think they both need their mother. And you need your sister." _

_ Thorin just nodded, squeezing her hand, trying to tell her without the words he couldn't find anyway just how much he loved her – just how much the pride he felt at her strength made him aware of his own weakness. _

_ "Well don't just stand there, go find Fili before he tries to make off with one of Balin's axes again!" _

_ Thorin snapped into a salute. "Yes, my queen," he barked formally, ducking as she swatted at him with her hairbrush and escaping the tent. Laughter felt unfamiliar but incredibly soothing after the heartache and grief and fear of the day before. A reminder that there was always hope. When he returned, carrying Fili, who had indeed been pestering Balin about his many weapons and how best to wield an axe, and could he please make one for him, because Unca Thorin and Mummy wouldn't do it, but please, Mista Balin? Thorin rolled his eyes. He knew what was coming as soon as Kili became mobile. Double trouble. _

_ As he lifted the flap of Dis's tent he heard her laughter, and came in to see her twirling in slow spins with a blue bundle in her arms – the same fuzzy blanket that Fili had loved so much when he had been barely the length of Thorin's forearm. Baby Kili was evidently awake; some kind of nonsensical babbling was emitting from said bundle. _

_ Thorin glanced at the nephew in his arms, fighting a grin. Fili's mouth was a perfect 'O' in shape, and he was staring at his giggling mother in awe – or at the blue blanket, maybe, Thorin wasn't too sure. _

_ "Fili, come here," Dis beamed – as if she hadn't lost nearly her entire family the day before. But that, a part of Thorin knew, was the miracle of life – of children. They could replace the holes left in the hearts of their families by loss and grief. And with a new dwarfling to care for and chase around and occasionally yell at, and his elder brother too, maybe, just maybe, he and Dis would be alright. _

_ "This is Kili," Dis was saying, bending down to Fili, whose sudden shout brought Thorin back to the present. _

_ "Ow! Mum!" Fili stared down at his baby brother reproachfully – the child was clinging to a golden braid and staring up at the new face. Thorin sighed, silently wishing his elder sister-son luck. He knew from experience just how strong the hands of infants were, from having Fili yank on his own braids one time too many. _

_ Silence descended on the little family before him, and Thorin stepped forward in concern when Dis looked up at him, her eyes shining. "He smiled!" The excitement in her voice was palpable, and Thorin smiled back at her. _

_ "Remind you of anyone?" _

_ Just like his mother, whose first smile had been for Thorin, Kili had saved his first for Fili._

_ Dis just nodded, blinking rather rapidly, before beckoning him over. "You probably didn't get a good look at him yesterday," she said quietly. "Come see."_

_ When Thorin came over, he gasped audibly, making Fili stare up at him in surprise and Dis close her eyes, whether in joy or pain, he wasn't sure. Those brown eyes gazing up at him, the little nose, the mouth – Kili bore a strong resemblance to Frerin, although the features were slightly more delicate, something he had no doubt gotten from his mother. But Thorin had seen most of the similarities the day before. What shocked him were the eyes – a part of him had been hoping they would be green, or even blue, because now Thorin was terrified that the innocent gaze of the dwarfling before him he would morph into Frerin's reproachful gaze. _Why didn't you save me, brother? Why couldn't you hear me screaming for you, Thorin? _He couldn't bear the thought. His little brother had died alone, ambushed by more orcs than any dwarf could be expected to combat single-handedly. Frerin had died a hero's death, as evinced by the numerous bodies strewn around him, but for the first time, his elder brother hadn't been there to save him. And Thorin knew he would never heal from this particular wound, not only because of the overwhelming grief and guilt, but because a miniature Frerin would now be chasing him around, calling him Uncle – but what if the child didn't like him? Could he stand the dislike? Even hatred? _

_ "Thorin!" Dis snapped her fingers before his eyes, and he started, jumping back. _

_ His throat felt as if it had closed permanently, and Thorin ruffled Fili's hair lightly before escaping the tent, making his way to his own, collapsing with his head in his hands. _

And Thorin could never forgive himself for the weeks that he had missed. Thankfully only weeks; no one could withstand Kili's charm and open, affectionate nature. Not even a terrified, cowardly uncle with nothing to ease his pain, no one who really understood why he was avoiding such a sweet baby dwarfling. Dis had guessed, he was sure, but she never confronted him. He remembered the flash of pain in her eyes every time he invented another excuse to not hold Kili, and the guilt threatened to eat him up alive, from the inside. How could he have wasted a single moment he'd had with his sister-son, when now he might never have the chance to see that beautiful smile directed at him again?

Kili had never held it against him that Thorin was that one strange man who would pass up a chance to hold him and coo at the premature and therefore small but always smiling baby in his fuzzy blanket. And Thorin knew he could never thank his sister-son enough for breaking through the shell he had encased himself in.

_Fili had fallen badly ill, and Dis was wearing herself thin between keeping track of both her sons, the younger of whom had begun attempting to eat everything he could find – and he had a knack for finding everything he shouldn't, even though it was all he could do to roll over. Somehow something would be left near him, and she'd turn around to find Kili gnawing at a knife or something equally terrifying. But Fili needed her too, and after she had passed two sleepless nights, Thorin had stepped in, volunteering to watch either child, and she had left him with Kili, reasoning that since the baby spent most of his time asleep, Thorin wouldn't have much of a burden to handle. All he had to do was ensure the room was warm – since Kili had been born early, he had little to no resistance to the cold, but was remarkably developed otherwise. And Thorin knew perfectly well how to light and maintain a good fire. _

_ At first Thorin had left Kili on his bed and seated himself in a chair by the window, sharpening the blade of his axe as quietly as he could manage, hoping the baby would fall asleep quickly. But Kili, in a room he wasn't familiar with, without his mother or brother, and with his uncle paying him no attention at all, whimpered so piteously that Thorin finally abandoned his work and lifted the child into his arms, sitting on the edge of the bed, blue eyes finally meeting brown. _

_ Thorin took a shaky breath, feeling his heart begin to pound faster with grief and regret, watching Frerin's intelligent eyes study him from an innocent, childish face. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his vision blurring as the memories of that terrible day stung him again. "I should have been there. I should have kept an eye on you. We always had each other's backs. Always. But the one time I wasn't there…" Another quavering inhalation, expelled from his aching body into the room silent save for the fire crackling morosely to itself. "Forgive me, brother," he gasped, a tear threatening to fall from his lashes. "I failed you. You never let me down, but when you needed me there, I…" He broke off, unable to remember how to breathe. "Forgive me. I'm so sorry, Frerin. I'm so sorry." _

_ A heartbeat of quietude, and then Kili made a very intelligent sounding gurgle, and Thorin found himself smiling at the infant despite his pain. He felt slightly better now, having unloaded his grief at least partially – and Kili did not seem to think him insane for talking to someone who had been gone for nearly a month. _

_ Realizing suddenly that his back was protesting from being bent for too long, Thorin straightened, only to hiss in pain. Looking down, he saw that Kili had latched on to one of his braids, clutching it with two chubby fists, and was chewing on it determinedly. When he saw his uncle staring down at him in shock, Kili returned the gaze, his brown eyes so adorably large and innocent that Thorin just smiled, dropping a kiss on the little forehead. Kili rewarded him with a toothless, beaming smile before returning his attention to the braid in his mouth. _

_Dis never asked him what had transpired between the two when she dropped by to find Kili snoring contentedly in Thorin's arms, a damp braid clamped in his fingers tightly. But she had given Thorin a knowing smile before taking the child from him, and since then Thorin had given Kili the same love and attention Fili had received from him. Gradually, as the dwarfling grew, Thorin came to realize that while Kili did resemble Frerin, in personality he was most like Dis. They both had a penchant for trouble, and the ability to melt hearts to get out of it. And as Kili began to grow and develop his own quirks and habits, Thorin learned to love him for himself, the way he loved and knew Fili. _

So what would he do if Kili never opened those brown eyes again? The first time he had seen them, Thorin had been terrified – and he was now too, but for an entirely different reason. And Fili…Fili would never be the same again. The only thing that had saved Fili from falling apart after the death of the father he idolized was his new brother – and from the onset they had been inseparable. Fili would sing to the baby, carry him around, sleep near him, tell him stories…he was the perfect brother. Although he sometimes got caught trying to teach Kili to catch a ball when the younger brother was scarcely a year old. _That _had gotten Fili in a lot of trouble with Dis.

Thorin remembered walking past Dis's room soon after Kili's birth to hear soft singing, and when he'd peeked inside he'd seen Fili standing on a stool and rocking the crib gently, singing his favorite lullaby in a childish but undeniably beautiful voice. And Thorin never knew just how long he stood there, rooted by the doorway, listening to the sound of an elder brother's love for the younger, and wishing that his was still with him.

The patter of small feet roused him, and blinking rapidly, Thorin turned to see a familiar blond child running up to him.

"Fili?" With a soft grunt, Thorin swept his sister-son off the floor, letting him sit on his lap. He knew better than to ask where Balin was. No doubt his inventive heir had given Balin the slip. And Balin had more tact than to barge in on them now.

Fili was stared down at Kili, his little face pale, the eyes wide with shock and fear.

"He's alive." Thorin's voice was unusually loud – as if by his assertion the words themselves would continue to stay true.

"Will he…?" Fili couldn't even finish the question, and Thorin sighed. He would not lie – because while lies melt like sugar on the tongue while still warm from the breath that gives them life, they ferment with time, growing sour and bitter. They cause rancor and pain, and the momentary relief they bestow is never worth it.

"He might," he answered, tightening his arms around Fili as the dwarfling's lips quivered.

"It's my fault!" Fili wailed, and suddenly Thorin was reminded that although he sometimes treated Fili like an adult, he was only seven.

"How in Mahal's name is it your fault?" Thorin demanded. "You couldn't –"

"I forgot! You told me to – to never leave your side unguarded, and I didn't think, if I had just –"

"Fili, stop," Thorin ordered, with so much authority in his tone that the crying dwarfling fell silent, save for his uneven breathing. "Bofur told me what you did, Fili, and you were so incredibly brave. You did so much more than anyone could have asked of you. You did what was needed to protect your brother, and I am truly very proud of you."

"But I didn't!" Fili shouted, slamming a fist against Thorin's shoulder. He barely felt the blow, but it was a mark of how angry Fili was with himself. He was rarely violent. "Kili's dy-dying, and it's all my –"

"No, it isn't," Thorin sighed. "If it's anyone's fault, it's mine, Fili. I should have stayed with you both instead of leaving you with someone else." He looked into Fili's eyes, so like his, seeing his own pain mirrored there. "Forgive me, Fili," he breathed.

In response, Fili burrowed into his uncle's chest, giving way to his grief again. "When's Mum coming home?" Fili cried, and Thorin's blood ran cold.

Mum. Dis. Mummy. Little sister. Friend. Queen. Wife. Daughter. She had been so many things in her lifetime – so much more than he. Yet she was the one who was never coming home.

Thorin felt his strength crumble away as he took a shuddering breath, and he knew from the way Fili stiffened that he had seen the hot tear sliding down his face. They had been through this before, just two years ago. _Why _did they have to suffer the same wounds? For how long? Until they had nothing more to bleed? Until Fili lost every dimple in his cheeks? Until Kili lay pale and unmoving and cold? Until he himself went mad with grief?

No. That wouldn't happen. He wouldn't let any of it happen. He would be their strength until they found their own.

"The orcs, they…" Fili whimpered, and Thorin gritted his teeth, spitting out those fatal, final words that would make it all real. "She's not coming home, Fili. Not anymore."

Although his eyes were shut, Thorin felt Fili's arms twine around his neck, and he crushed the dwarfling to him as his nephew's sobs redoubled in intensity and pain. This time there was no disbelief. They both knew, only too well, what death meant. What the phrase "not coming home" meant. And both had hoped to never hear it again.

Just as he had done two years ago, Thorin pressed his face into Fili's sunny hair and let his own tears fall, praying that this was the last time they had to experience such heart-rending grief. Praying that Kili would be allowed to live. Praying that Kili would hold on for them both. They needed him now. They needed the joy and life and love he brought to everything, even if that meant tying knots in their hair or trying to play with all of Fili's toys the moment Fili wanted them. Even if it meant singing songs to them all night long. They needed him back.

When he finally took a deep breath, his grief temporarily spent, Thorin found himself humming the same lullaby that he'd heard Fili sing to Kili that night two years ago. He knew not the words, but the tune was something achingly familiar and hauntingly beautiful, as if his mother had sung it to him when he was a child, but those moments were lost now in his mind. He had spent little time with her, preferring the company of his father and grandfather and the other warriors; something he bitterly regretted. Sickness had taken her, taken her suddenly. Another family member gone without a farewell. Gone without a trace. _Please, Aulë, don't add Kili to the list of my mistakes. _

Fili was lying flat against his arm, and Thorin glanced down to see the blue eyes shifting restlessly behind closed lids, the small brow creased. Thorin sighed, caressing the blond head gently. There would be no rest in a troubled sleep, he knew that.

What he would give to never have had to share this particular experience again and again with his nephew…he had made his own mistakes, he had done things he deserved to suffer for, but _Fili_. The dwarfling was innocent! How could any world, any god, do something like this to such a young child? Cradling Fili in his arms, watching Kili's chest barely moving as he clung stubbornly to the last vestiges of life and breath in his body, Thorin just wanted to melt into the ground and disappear. But he couldn't.

_Be strong for my sons. _

He wouldn't.

Closing his eyes, Thorin thanked Dis silently for the promise he had made her before she'd left. Even in her last moments, she had taken care of her family. Without her words to fall back on, he knew he there was a very good chance he would've given up. Maybe lost his mind, the way his father had. Dis had anchored him to life and reason with the strongest, most unforgiving chain: love. Love for his sister, love for his sister-sons. He could not give up, could not abandon them to struggle and suffer on their own, not while the chain held. And love was the one force that was unbreakable.

Careful to keep a reasonable space between the brothers to avoid contact if Fili moved in his sleep, Thorin laid Fili down beside his brother, marveling again at the marked contrasts between the two. Yet they were both so deeply connected that their lack of physical similarities could not convince even block of marble that they were not brothers.

"Hold on, Kili," Thorin begged, cupping the little face tenderly, praying the warmth he felt beneath his fingertips would never fade. "I'm here. Just hold on."

**A/N: Pleeeeease review! They motivate me when I don't feel like writing, and hopefully more reviews will inspire my flighty muse to return to me that much sooner! And then I can put up the next chapter! LOVEYOU. Thank you for reading! The review box is just below ;D**


	9. Savior

**A/N: Hello lovely people! Here is my next chapter! Before we start, a quick THANK YOU to everyone who reviewed the last one! I got fewer reviews than usual last time, which made me sad /sniffles/. But thank you so much to everyone who did leave me a few comments – it really made me so happy! And so many of you left such wonderful long reviews! I had a great time reading everything you had to say, I love hearing from you guys! So thank you, thank you, thank you! And thank you everyone who is reading this story! The chapter title comes from the song Savior by Rise Against, not from me. Enjoy the chapter! It turned out longer than I anticipated, so I hope you guys like it :)**

Savior

_I just want to save you while there's still something left to save…_

Twelve days. Twelve days of emptiness. Twelve days without a single smile from Fili. Twelve days without Kili's laughter bubbling up from some never-ending pit of effervescence inside him. Twelve days gone in a blur. Twelve days spent by a bedside, twelve days trying to keep Fili from watching his brother's battle with death. Twelve days alone.

"Thorin, that's enough. Get up."

He grunted, twisting the hem of his shirt in his fingers. Counting every breath Kili took by the way the tiny chest struggled to rise and then collapsed almost immediately, audible only by a slight wheeze. One. Pause. Two. A longer pause. _Don't let go, Kili. Please. _Three. A shorter pause. Four.

"You have not eaten in three days! Enough of this stupidity! Killing yourself will not help him or Fili now!"

But it would have. If only he had stayed with them instead of abandoning them to another. That was what a father was supposed to do. Protect his sons. Guide them. Shield them from the harsh realities of life until they were old enough to cope, to understand, to fight back. But Firnen, who Thorin had to admit had been a wonderful father, was gone. And while Thorin was an uncle, he was not a father. He had never married, never fathered a child, never known how to father and care for one. He could not roll around on the rug like a dog with its pup with Fili the way Firnen had often done. He could not carry Fili around on his shoulders, letting the boy yank on his braids like a pony's reins. He was not a father. But that was what they needed. And he was the only one they could ask anything from now.

"Thorin!" Balin's voice had quickly transformed into a growl, and Thorin responded with a grunt. Why could the older dwarf not see that he wanted – _needed – _to be alone?

"Where is Fili? Do you know where your nephew is?"

Thorin raised his head, feeling drained. He knew that normally he would be terrified, but he didn't have the strength. His heart couldn't beat that fast anymore. Strange, that a dwarfling he had known for only two years could take so much away with him.

"We can't find him, Thorin." Balin sounded as though he was speaking from underwater, the words popping up in bubbles to the surface, distorted by liquid. "We can't find him! Look for him! Oin will watch Kili!"

Kili. After three days of no change, Oin had begun to grow desperate, applying concoctions that he had invented – referred to as "ointments," named after their maker – to the wound, leaving it open to the air for intervals so that the wound could heal faster, instead of remaining constantly damp. But no matter what he did, Kili would not wake. Nor would he die. Fili had been a constant fixture by Kili's side, except for when the bandages were changed or the wound exposed for even a short time – Thorin didn't want to scar Fili so completely. But his elder sister-son had not reacted the way Thorin had expected.

There were few tears, and no more screams. Fili sat silently, clutching Kili's hand, crying only when he thought no one could see him. He hadn't spoken in days, his eyes glassing over and even his bright hair losing its luster. At night he stayed up as long as he could by Kili's side, eventually falling asleep from sheer exhaustion. He rarely ate – Thorin, too, forgot to eat, and therefore never remembered to remind Fili – but Bofur and Balin forced food into both of them – especially Fili, because although stubborn, the dwarfling was much more tractable than Thorin – whenever they could.

There was another matter Thorin had to contend with, too – Dis's funeral. Oin and the healers had managed to preserve her body thus far with various herbs and other things that Thorin had not cared to ask after, but they had warned him that she would not last forever. They would have to bury her soon. But Thorin could not bear to lay his sister to rest without knowing what was to befall her youngest. He needed to know whether or not Kili would survive before he could bid his baby sister goodbye. But he could feel time closing in on him quickly; its shadow was enveloping him, and he was running out of strength to flee. He would have to face it eventually. He could only pray that Kili would recover before it was too late.

Thrain had always told his son that misfortune never came alone – it came in threes. He used to joke that his children were a misfortune in its worst form – three children, extra trouble. For the first few days after Kili's…accident…Thorin had felt as if some unseen beast was creeping up behind him, fangs bared for the death blow – Dis was gone, Kili was so close to flying after her. He had been waiting for something more, the final disaster. Now he knew.

Fili was dying. Not physically, perhaps. But the bright-eyed eager child he had known as Fili had vanished. He had disappeared the moment Kili had; now he only had two empty shells. One was close to death. The other was dying slowly with him. To take one would be to take them both. They were inseparable, linked by love. How do you grow so close, so attached, in two years? How does someone claim your heart, your life so completely in only two years?

This felt too much like saying goodbye. Sitting here by his sister-son's side, not knowing what to say to the one living and the one close to leaving, feeling both slipping away from him in different ways and terrified to see them leaving him. They were all he had left, yet he didn't know how to keep them.

Maybe he couldn't save Kili. Maybe that sweet baby dwarfling's recovery was up to Aulë alone. But could he save Fili? He had nothing left to give. He had bled himself dry, crumbling in upon himself with every loss, hardening his shell with every family member he'd laid to rest, adding a layer every time so that the next loss wouldn't hurt so much. Maybe his shell had become who he really was. Maybe he was going to keep hiding inside himself until he had nothing left to lose.

Dis. She had told him something, but he couldn't remember what it was. Her face was swimming before his closed eyes, and then she morphed into Firnen, and then Thror and Frerin and Thorin was drowning, drowning in their faces and his love for them. Wishing he could join them, and knowing that it was impossible, that he was trapped in his own body and couldn't leave it, not without abandoning his sister-sons, something that he still could not bring himself to do, no matter how sweet the smiles of his lost family members were. But Fili and Kili were his family too. Their smiles were sweet enough for him – if he ever saw them again. And suddenly Thorin felt as though he had broken the surface of the water he was drowning in, bursting up in a tidal wave of pain, ready to fight. He knew the darkness eating away at Fili. It was the same pain and fear that devoured him, that had been feasting on his heart since the Battle of Azanulzibar. But that same day had given him Kili, and with the new child had been born the Fili he had known for the past two years, a vibrant, happy, exuberant Fili who had vanished ever since Kili had left them. And shells be damned, he was going to rescue his sister-sons. Both of them. He was going to bring them back.

Besides, whenever he met Dis again, she would never forgive him if he allowed Fili to succumb to this. Nor would Firnen, who had loved his son so fiercely. Or Frerin, who had doted on his nephew, constantly bemoaning Fili's blond hair, to Firnen's amusement.

"Find Oin," Thorin ordered, standing in a fluid albeit somewhat shaky movement, taking deep breaths in an effort to steady his exhausted body. "Notify me if there's any change." He glanced down at Kili one last time, and then strode outside, attaching his sword securely to the thick belt around his hips, simply because its weight and presence comforted him. He had two nephews to save.

-:-

Fili rubbed his eyes furiously, trying helplessly to will away the tears. Every time he opened his eyes he saw Kili before him, giggling at something and reaching up for a hug; Every time he closed them, he saw his mother and father.

He couldn't do this. How was he supposed to live without Kili? Even being on the same branch that Kili had trapped himself on about two weeks ago hurt. How did anyone expect him to be able to look at Kili's boots lying forlornly at the foot of his bed? How did Balin and Bofur expect him to eat when his brother was not? How did Uncle Thorin expect him to just leave Kili and run around outside? What if Kili died while he wasn't there? Was it possible to die just from wanting to die so much it hurt? Did his uncle just not care? Fili curled up into himself, hugging his knees, pushing his forehead against them. He knew his uncle loved him, and loved Kili, so why was he trying so hard to keep Fili away? Was there something he didn't want him to know? What did Uncle Thorin want from him?

Balin had said something to him a few days ago – Fili hadn't really been listening, but he did remember hearing "Thorin's heir" and "prince" in the older dwarf's long-winded lecture as Balin tried to force him to eat. That was what they expected of him. To be grown up. He rubbed at his eyes with his fists, trying to crush the violent shivering that shook his body back inside himself, along with the tears. He didn't want to be a prince! He just wanted to…be himself. Run around with Kili. Think of some new pranks to pull on unsuspecting dwarves. Especially Uncle Thorin. But he remembered the disappointment and sadness in Balin's face, and the way Uncle Thorin seemed to be trying not to cry whenever he looked at him, and a hot, heavy, roiling weight settled in his gut.

Were they looking so sad because he wasn't doing something right? Was he a disappointment? Did they hate him for what he had done? Fili tried to swallow his tears, unable to bear disappointing his uncle and Balin and the pain of possibly killing his brother, but more kept leaking out, unloading all the grief he tried to keep inside while he was with Kili. Tears were a weakness. Uncle Thorin rarely cried, and Fili learned by example that he was not to cry either. But he couldn't help it.

This was all his fault. It didn't matter how many times Uncle Thorin or any of the others said it wasn't. They didn't know. They weren't there. They didn't know Kili! But he did. Fili sniffled. Kili had always trusted him to be there. When he had a nightmare, his brother would wake up screaming for _him, _not anyone else. When he'd taken it into his head that the bee that had chased him from the rose he had tried to smell was trying to eat him, Kili had run straight to Fili. And even at the end, when the orc had been bearing down on them both, Kili had hidden behind him. Trusting Fili to protect him.

And instead, Fili had forced Kili to do what he should have done.

He couldn't help it, couldn't stop his mind from replaying those terrible moments over and over, as Kili leaped up from behind him and fell with a thud to the ground, the knife embedded in his body, the wound _weeping _crimson, and he had just _stood there. _Fili was disgusted with himself. Instead of helping, going for help, doing anything at all, he had just stayed where he was. Staring.

If he had been the one who was hurt, Kili would not have stared down at him. Two years old he may have been, but Kili's reactions were lightning fast. Fili remembered the time he'd burned his hand trying to snatch a cookie from the tray before they'd cooled, and he had accidentally touched his palm to the tray. Before he had even registered the pain and the fact that it was blindingly intense, before he had even seen the angry red welt splayed over his skin, Kili was screaming for Dis, howling that "Fiwi gotted hurt!" And yet when his baby brother needed him, Fili had let him down. Badly. Unforgivably.

Several more tears splashed down onto the bark, and Fili gingerly stretched himself out on the branch, putting his hands where Kili's had clung to the wood, clinging tightly to the tree as if hoping to find his brother's hands there, reaching back towards his. But he was alone now – and at seven years old Fili knew just how close alone was to becoming his forever.

His mother was no longer there to run to when he couldn't take it anymore. His father wasn't there to swing him through the air and tell him stories whenever he wanted them. Fili knew why Firnen was rarely mentioned anymore. It was because they all hoped he wouldn't remember. They didn't want him to remember, because they knew it would hurt. But Fili knew he would never forget a pair of warm green eyes and bright golden hair like his, and a smile that had always told him that everything would be okay.

He wanted his father. He wanted to be able to cuddle up to him, be wrapped in those strong arms, smell that scent of smoke and wood that always seemed to cling to his father and know that in that embrace, nothing could touch him. Nothing could hurt him.

A tear landed on the branch his hand was wrapped around. Maybe two weeks ago it could have been Kili's, shed of the fear of the height they were at. Two weeks ago it could have been wiped away, the crying dwarfling easily comforted and rescued. But now there was no one to comfort him. And he was not the one who needed rescuing.

In that moment, alone in the tree, desperately searching the worn bark of the tree in the hopes of feeling the warmth of his brother's hands there, Fili made himself a promise. He would never make these mistakes again. He would never be so helpless, so useless, again. He had promised Kili he would always be there. And if Aulë preserved his brother's life, Fili would make sure to make good on his promise.

_Kili. Don't leave me. Don't leave me here alone. _

-:-

Almost an hour later, Thorin's head was buzzing unpleasantly. There was definitely something wrong. Fili was nowhere – not in anyone's house, not in Balin's, where he'd been staying. Not even in Dis's. He'd even checked under all the beds! The forge was empty too, except for Dwalin, who promptly abandoned his metalworking to join the search. Apparently Fili had been reported missing two hours before anyone had worked up the courage to rouse Thorin from Kili's deathbed. No. Bedside.

He stepped out of Dis's house, running a hand through his unkempt hair in frustration, hissing in pain when it snagged on the knot Kili had gifted him so long ago. He hadn't been able to remove it. It reminded him of his nephew; he couldn't bear to let it go, not when it was all he had of Kili.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the orchard he had been teaching Fili to spar in nearly two weeks before. The day Kili had climbed into a tree and nearly stopped Thorin's heart mid-beat then and there.

Praying his instinct was right, he broke into a run, skidding to a halt beside a familiar tree. When he looked up, his keen eyes probing the branches, he found what he was looking for, and finally permitted himself to relax slightly, telling his heart it could slow his frantic pace. He'd found Fili, and he was going to keep him.

"Fili!" Thorin shouted, rearing his head back to watch the boy, praying he wouldn't fall. But if Fili could come down that tree with Kili on his back, he could make it down on his own. "Come down!"

For a moment there was no movement, and then he saw Fili pull himself up into a sitting position and gradually begin to slide down the trunk of the tree, gripping the branches with his hands and feet as he needed to. As Thorin watched him descend, he began to feel a strange emptiness in his hands, and the feeling crawled up his arms to his shoulders and chest, settling itself into the deepest recesses of his heart. In the past week, he had lost his ability to speak to Fili. He couldn't look at him without searching for Kili, who was always only a footstep behind his older brother, excited just to be near him, just to be doing everything Fili was. And to know that Kili was lying in a coma, probably never to wake again, and then to see Fili drop lightly down onto the ground, this time without a dark-haired dwarfling clinging to his neck, hurt so much more than anything Thorin had ever felt.

But just when he thought that the painful hole in his tattered heart couldn't possibly grow larger, Thorin got his first good look at Fili in days. In that moment, he knew he was too late. Nothing he did or said would matter now, because Fili was gone. Long gone. The golden-haired dwarfling before him was not his sister-son. Not the boy who always ran up to meet him whenever he came. Not the boy who begged him for a visit to the forge. Not the boy who displayed an amazing proficiency with the toy blade. This was not Fili.

It couldn't be.

The dwarfling before him had the same features Fili did, but the blue eyes were hard, and the face…something about the expression was incredibly familiar. For a moment Thorin just stared, searching the face of the child he used to know, looking for traces of those dimples that were nearly always present when Kili was around. But instead he recognized what he was looking at, and it hit him like a punch in the gut.

He was looking at himself.

Fili's normally smiling face wore an adult expression – a mask of hardness. Only his eyes showed his pain, and the tightened corners of his mouth. But he looked tortured, and Thorin knew that look. He had seen it so many times in his own eyes when standing before a mirror. It was a sort of pain Thorin had never experienced before, to see Fili so broken. At least with the rest of his family, he had mourned them only after their death. But he was now mourning Fili while the boy was still alive – because Fili was gone.

There was only one way to bring him back, and even then, it was a very real possibility that he would never be the same. But Thorin knew what Fili would become if he lost Kili now, just when the loss of Dis was so fresh; he had to hope that Kili would survive. He didn't want his nephew to become what he was.

For the first time in twelve days, Thorin was forced to realize just how useless he had been to his nephew. If he had died in the place of any of his family members – Dis, Frerin, or even Firnen – Fili would not have such a haunted look in his eyes. Dis had been nurturing, always knowing exactly what to say and do to minimize the pain of any given moment. Frerin always had a joke or two to tell, perpetually prepared to lighten the mood. And Firnen had been gifted with the ability to comfort through smiles and even by his presence. But he, Thorin, had nothing to offer.

Instead of comforting Fili, instead of realizing that the boy was suffering even more than him at the potential loss of his baby brother, Thorin had chosen to wallow in his own misery, sitting disconsolately by Kili's side and pushing Fili away whenever he tried to come near. In fact, come to think of it, Thorin couldn't clearly recall anything from the past twelve days except for Kili's pale face and labored breathing. He couldn't remember Fili other than a blond blur in the corner of his eye. How could he have done that to his own sister-son? How could he have forced Fili to struggle with something so devastating alone?

Now Fili was standing before him, just watching him with a flicker of curiosity in his eyes, quivering in the hurricane of pain swirling in their blue depths, and Thorin didn't know what to do. He knew Firnen would have swept his son up into his arms and held him tightly, promising him that everything would be okay. But he couldn't do that. He wasn't Firnen. He wasn't a father.

As he watched, Fili's lips quivered ever so slightly before the boy pressed them together tightly, straightening his spine and pushing back his shoulders, raising his chin, and Thorin could feel himself beginning to come apart at the seams. This was not how Fili should be forced to behave. He was too young to have to be so strong. And he had nowhere to turn now…except his uncle.

Without thinking, Thorin dropped to his knees and dragged Fili into his arms, crushing the dwarfling in against his chest, feeling his heart break a little more as a sob tore itself from Fili's throat, and suddenly the boy was collapsing against him, the small arms tightening around Thorin's neck, pulling uncomfortably on his hair. But he didn't want to pull away.

"I'm sorry, Uncle Thorin," he heard a small voice whimper, and Thorin tightened his grip, feeling his bicep muscles spasm with the contraction, suddenly conscious of how long it had been since he had eaten anything at all. This lightheadedness couldn't be normal.

But he forced himself back to the present, ignoring the way his vision spun before straightening itself out. Fili needed him. "You have nothing to be sorry for," he said softly, enunciating every letter. Hoping Fili hadn't been beating himself up for the past few days, and knowing that his sister-son had. He knew Fili better than the boy thought. "None of this was your fault, Fili. Even dwarves full grown cannot always –"

"What if he never wakes up?" Fili wailed, burrowing into Thorin's furs, trying to surround himself in the warmth and sense of safety that his uncle always seemed to exude. "It's my fault if he never wakes up!"

"He will wake up," Thorin said, his voice cracking as he remembered the pale face of his nephew. But he tried to muster up every shred of confidence he could. Fili didn't need to hear his lack of it. "He won't leave us, Fili."

Fili just whimpered, and Thorin curled over the last link he had to his family, swearing to himself to protect him with every drop of blood in his body, hoping that he would soon be able to hold Kili this way again too.

It was unfair. Their entire family had been ripped away, and Thorin and Fili were left holding the shreds of their hearts and lives, whatever little hadn't been taken from them. And there were too many holes to put anything back together again. Thorin could still feel Fili shaking with sobs, gasping his brother's name between sobs, occasionally crying for his mother or father, and it was all he could do to keep himself together. He couldn't fall apart now. Fili needed someone to lean on. Fili needed a hand to hold. And he would be there.

He didn't hear them, not at first. But suddenly the shouts struck his ears, and Thorin raised his head, blinking away the redness in his eyes, forcing the tears to dissolve back into the stormy blue captured between his lashes.

"Thorin!" Dwalin appeared before him, looking frantic, and Thorin stood immediately, lifting Fili up with him.

"What is it?" _Not Kili. Don't take Kili. Please, not Kili. Take me instead. Not Kili. _

But Dwalin was out of breath, and for a moment he bent over, his hands braced on his knees, sucking in deep breaths. "The lad," he gasped out, and Thorin felt the blood freeze in his veins, the very marrow in his bones running cold. _No. _

"What happened?" he demanded, the terror lending him rage. "What's the matter?"

Fili had stiffened, holding tightly to Thorin's shoulder, but Thorin could feel the boy trembling, and cursed Dwalin for having run either so long or so hard to find him that he could barely speak.

"Go!" Dwalin roared, making both the uncle and his nephew jump. Apparently the dwarf had been saving his breath up to yell instead of actually divulging any information. With one last look of withering fury, promising pain to come if Dwalin had inadequately prepared him for what he feared had come to pass, Thorin vanished, breaking into a loping run with Fili held tightly in his arms.

In what seemed like seconds he was thundering into the house they had left Kili in, and the whole time _not Kili, please not Kili, not him too, please no _kept running through Thorin's mind. He struggled to see where he was going as flashes of Kili hugging his boot and smiling up at him, Kili and Fili begging him for a story, and Kili trying to wrestle Fili to the ground all clamored for his attention, fizzling out before his eyes as reality intruded every time, forcing him to remember that Kili might never grin impishly up at him again.

Might. He clung to that word, hoping and praying and everything in between that he was wrong, and his worries were for nothing. But that did nothing to slow his speed, his feet slamming into the ground at a furious pace, his own fear amplified by the way Fili was clinging to him, dissolving in tears again.

The door to Kili's room had not yet been repaired – Thorin suspected that the healers had been afraid he would simply smash it once more if they tried to keep him or Fili out again – and just outside the door the blood roaring in his ears quieted enough for him to hear it.

That voice.

"Wan' Fiwi!" Petulant, angry, scared, and so definitely Kili.

Fili's hoarse screams were ringing in Thorin's ears as he practically flew into the room, his heart stopping dead with relief and love in his chest as he saw his tiny sister-son sitting up against the pillows, struggling with Oin, who was trying to hold him down. And then those beautiful brown eyes had seen Fili leaping down from Thorin's arms and darting up onto the bed, and they filled with so much joy Thorin thought his heart would burst.

"He woke," Oin said wonderingly – and unnecessarily, standing back and watching. "Fili, careful, lad! He's not healed yet."

But the boys paid him no attention. They were hugging each other tightly, Kili appearing to be terrified as Fili broke down completely, sobbing into his brother's hair, unable to even speak. "Wha' happen, Unca Thorin?" Kili demanded, his voice hoarse and therefore a bit softer than usual, but otherwise just the same, peering up at his uncle over Fili's shoulder, patting his brother lovingly on the top of his sunny hair.

"Kili," Thorin choked out, dropping onto the bed beside them and wrapping them both up in a bear hug, pressing firm kisses to their soft hair, cradling his nephews. _They were alive_. "Thank you, Aulë," he murmured, so softly that neither heard him speak.

Relief and love were pounding through his veins as intensely as the bone-chilling terror had been only minutes before, and Thorin didn't realize how tightly he was holding the dwarflings until a soft cry of pain escaped the younger, and he loosened his hold, the fear returning suddenly.

"Kili?" Fili whispered, sounding so scared that Thorin instinctively put his arm around the elder as he laid the younger brother back against the pillows.

"Hurts," Kili whimpered, his big eyes rapidly pooling with tears. "Hurts bad, Fiwi," he cried, but before either Fili or Thorin could reach for the baby dwarf Oin had shoved them aside, putting a draught to Kili's lips, ordering him to drink.

Kili took one sip and promptly spat the liquid out, spraying Thorin with it. "Yuck," he mumbled, trying to sit up so he could properly protest his treatment. And seconds later, he shrieked with pain, making Fili and Thorin shove him back down again.

"Just drink it, laddie," Oin coaxed, but Kili wouldn't let the vial anywhere near his mouth, even though his wound was paining him so much that tears were running in clear rivulets down his cheeks.

Just as Thorin was considering intervening, Oin reached out in a flash and pinned Kili down, forcing the vial of liquid to the dwarfling's lips. But the cry of shock and protest and pain had barely escaped the dark-haired child before Fili shoved Oin away with surprising force, a snarl so feral on his face that even Thorin was taken aback.

"Don't touch him," Fili growled, glaring at the healer who had caused his brother pain. Accidentally or not, it didn't matter. He had nearly lost Kili through his own negligence – and he wasn't going to let anyone hurt his baby brother again.

Thorin's lips twitched with the ghost of a smile before he quelled it. The protectiveness was something he loved about Fili, although the boy seemed to have a policy that no one could hurt Kili but himself – which Thorin wasn't sure he approved of. But it was just so beautiful to see the brothers reunited, to see the sparkle back in Fili's eyes, dispelling the haunted, tortured look that had dwelled there for so long, that Thorin had not the heart to reprimand his heir.

"I'll do it, Oin," he offered, taking the drink from the healer. "What is this, anyway?"

"Stubborn, just like you," Oin agreed, nodding wisely.

Thorin raised an eyebrow as Fili and Kili giggled, their anger and pain momentarily forgotten. "Oin," he said slowly and clearly, "I asked you what is in this."

"Eh?"

"Oh, for the love of Durin –" Seizing Oin's ear trumpet from the bedside table, Thorin slapped it in the dwarf's hand, waiting for him to position it by his ear before speaking again. "What. Is. In. This?" He brandished the offending bottle.

"Diluted poppy juice, so that it isn't strong enough to permanently knock him out," Oin said promptly. "Dulls the pain, makes the lad sleepy," he translated, making Thorin fight the urge to roll his eyes. He had seen enough wounds to know what poppy juice was.

"Thank you," he said sincerely, sending a rare smile in the healer's direction. He meant it. Without Oin and his emergency "ointments," Kili would definitely not have survived.

"Anytime," Oin smiled, glancing fondly at the two lads – albeit a little warily at Fili – before bowing slightly and exiting the room.

"Kili, you're going to have to drink this, lad," Thorin said, shifting closer to his nephews.

"Not goin' sleep," Kili muttered, glaring darkly at the vial. "Wan' play wif Fiwi. Right, Fiwi?"

Fili appeared torn, and he glanced nervously at Thorin.

"Not until you get better, Kili," Thorin said sharply, foreseeing innumerable disasters in the near future. Of course Kili would refuse to stay still until he healed. His nephew was going to be the death of them all. "If you keep moving around, you'll take longer to heal, and then you won't be able to play with Fili for that much longer."

Kili gave Thorin his best pleading look, complete with wide eyes and a pouting mouth. Thorin shook his head. "Not working, Kili."

"Pwease, Unca Thorin?" Kili begged. "Pwease?"

Fili giggled.

"No, Kili. Now drink this."

"Can we ask Mummy firs'?"

That one simple question tore into Thorin like a blow from an axe, and Fili turned so pale he was afraid the boy would collapse where he was. Soon, he would have to tell Kili about Dis. But not now. He couldn't do it now – not while he'd just gotten Kili back. He was selfish enough to postpone the agony of repeating the reality of his sister's death once again. He wanted his happy, perpetually smiling nephews back. The crushing reality was that Dis's death might destroy them so utterly that he might never see either of them smile again. Kili would have to grow up without parents, and Fili would be forced to live with only memories. In ten years, would Kili even remember his mother, the only parent he had ever known? Would Fili?

Thorin bit his lip, forcing the ugly thoughts crowding together in his mind away. Kili was in no condition to bear the news now. Or at least, he was in no condition to deliver it again. Not so soon. Not when Kili had just returned to him. And to Fili.

"Kili," Thorin said sternly, bringing his brows together to emphasize the seriousness of his tone, "Drink it." Kili's face fell, and he sighed, relenting. He couldn't withstand Kili's pouting now. Not when he had thought he would never see that adorable expression again. "Drink it, and maybe you can play with Fili tomorrow."

Kili's eyes flickered between Fili and the hated vial for a few moments, and then, grudgingly, he allowed Thorin to hold it to his lips, pulling faces all the while. Thorin frowned with worry as Kili drank – even the few minutes he had spent awake had tired the dwarfling so thoroughly that he quaked from exhaustion as he drank. But in minutes the liquid was gone, and Kili was snoring softly against the pillows, settling into a finally peaceful rest.

"You too, Fili," Thorin said quietly, noticing how drained the older dwarfling looked. There were bags under Fili's eyes and his face was still incredibly pale, tears sparkling in his eyes. He knew where they had sprung from. Kili's innocent question had caused them more pain than he had thought possible.

Hesitating for a moment, Fili settled down beside Kili, wrapping his arms gently around his baby brother, and Thorin pulled a light sheet up over them, not wanting to use the blankets in case they were too heavy for Kili's injury to withstand. He dropped light kisses on their foreheads as Fili's eyes fluttered shut, and sat back, feeling his heart warm at the sight of the reunited brothers.

He could feel his entire body relaxing, the muscles that had been tensed for days finally losing their tautness as Kili snuggled closer to Fili in his sleep. They were alive. They were healing. Both of them. And maybe he was too.

A strand of Fili's hair had fallen over his face, and Thorin brushed it back gently. He wasn't their father, and it was very possible he would never know how to replace the one they had lost. But he could try. He loved them that much. He owed them that much.

When he had left this very room a while back, Thorin had left with one mission: to save his sister-sons. But he knew better now. He needed them more than he had thought – maybe even more than they needed him. They kept him from becoming a broken dwarf. They kept him from becoming a grieving shadow of himself. They kept him alive.

They had saved him.

**A/N: Please please please review! You have no idea how happy it makes me! Especially all my silent readers – I would LOVE to hear from you, as all of my amazing regular reviewers already know :D**

**Thank you, see you next chapter!**

**Oh and I'm a little behind on replying to some of the private messages I got lately – just had a lot of work this weekend, but I promise I'll try to get to them all by tomorrow! Love you guys :D**


	10. Iridescent

**A/N: Thank you thank you thank you everyone for all the lovely reviews last chapter! You guys really rose to the challenge beautifully, and I have baked chocolate chip cookies for you all in gratitude! I just don't know how to thank you guys anymore…THANK YOU. So much. I do apologize for falling off the grid for two weeks – real life became very complicated! But thank you for bearing with me! I still have a few PMs to respond to – I'm nearly there, so if you haven't yet received a response from me you will soon! I'm so so sorry, and thank you reviewing! You all really made my day, and I have cranked out this chapter for you. **

**Speaking of this chapter, I had something else entirely planned for it, up until a few days ago. And instead, this typed itself out. I hope you guys like it, please leave me a review! You have no idea how warm and fuzzy inside your reviews make me feel! The title for this chapter comes from the song Iridescent by Linkin Park, if you haven't heard it I strongly recommend it. Excellent song. Now go, beautiful people, enjoy the chapter! And your cookies! My muse and I thank you for your reviews!**

Iridescent

_Remember all the sadness and frustration, and let it go…_

Thorin dropped into a chair as he watched Balin leave, the aged dwarf's form silhouetted in the doorway by the moonlight streaming in for barely a moment before he closed the door quietly behind him, cutting off the silvery glow as abruptly as he had allowed it in. He rubbed his palm tiredly across his face, nearly wishing the sun would never rise. This was not a day he had the strength to face. Then again, he'd plowed through the past twelve days with the exact same mindset.

He and Balin had just arranged for Dis's funeral. Her _funeral. _His little sister. She should have been the one to bury him.

And it was to be this very day. The healers didn't want to wait, for fear that they would soon lose their ability to preserve her. It had been far too long already, they said, and none wanted to tempt fate any farther. That meant he would have to tell Kili, tell him before the funeral in the early evening, Dis's favorite time of day.

But what was eating away at Thorin from the inside was that Dis would not be laid to rest by her husband's side. It was customary for a husband and wife to embark upon their final journey together – but she would be alone. Thorin could only pray that Firnen would be waiting for her – but he knew the dwarf would. Firnen may have been guarded around Thorin, but even so he had been able to see just how much the younger dwarf loved Dis. She would be in good hands.

Now he had to somehow attempt to fill the void Dis and Firnen had left in the lives of their sons. Reaching out, Thorin dragged a candle closer to him, running a finger lightly over the edges of the flame, close enough to feel the heat cutting into him, and then slashed the finger through the flame, so quickly that he avoided the burn. Or maybe he had lost his ability to feel.

He didn't know what Dis had wanted her sons to become. What she would have wanted him to mold them into. He could make them warriors, princes, leaders – Mahal, they could probably do that themselves. They were _born _that way. The blood of Durin flowed in their veins; they had been born ready. Even little Kili, whose favorite weapon was still his pout. Thorin felt the beginnings of a chuckle rumble in his chest, dying away before they had fully grown. Kili had chosen an incredibly effective weapon. Fili, on the other hand, was growing up entirely too fast.

He could see it in the blond dwarfling's eyes, that wariness born only of battle, the hardness born only of wounds cut so deep they would never fully heal. Seven he might be, but Thorin knew that his older sister-son would never forget how close he had come to being an only child. Some scars never fade.

Fili would be a lethal warrior one day. He had the talent, he had the ability. He'd had it for seven years. But now, Fili had a reason. He had something to fight for – and _that _was what crafted fearsome warriors. It was what tested and proved their mettle.

_I will not have them die before their time, Thorin, and least of all because of you._

Dis's indignation at his intention to train Fili while the lad was still so young – he could remember it as clearly as if she had voiced her protests only yesterday. Was he doing the right thing? What if he taught Fili the law of the sword, and none other? She would never forgive him if Fili became what he was. But he knew what she was afraid of – it was that her sons would give their lives in battle the same way Firnen and Frerin and so many others had. It was that they might meet their end in blood and battle cries, wounds that could not be overcome. The way she had.

But he had no choice. They were relatively safe in Ered Luin, but as Dis's death had proved, the hardships of the Erebor dwarves were not over. And if he could keep them safe, even if that meant teaching them to use every weapon he could with the same proficiency he displayed, then he would do it. A hundred times over.

Thorin watched the flame flicker on the table, a drop of wax sliding lazily down the length of the candle. This time, when he put his finger to the flame, he was too slow – and withdrew his hand with a hiss, sucking on the angry burn to soothe it. Maybe he did not know what Dis had wanted her sons to grow into; but he knew what Firnen had desired for them.

_Thorin slumped down in his chair, fighting the urge to clap his hands over his ears to block out the sound of several dwarf women cooing like insane doves over the tiny infant known to the world as Fili in the next room. If he'd had his way, he would be in the forge or outside with Dwalin, not cooped up in Dis's living room, listening to this madness. But he hadn't. Dis had _requested _his presence for the entire day – Mahal knew why. And when Dis _requested _something, everyone else hopped to. She didn't do it often, but when she really wanted something, she made sure she received it. And evidently she wanted to put her older brother to death by cooing. _

_ Grumbling a few Khuzdul curses under his breath, Thorin pulled out a sharp whittling knife and a piece of wood he had brought with him, relaxing as his hands began shaving off slices of the smoothened wood in rapid, assured movements. _

_ "How long have you been here?" Firnen dropped down into the chair beside him, leaning over to examine the wood in Thorin's hands. _

_ "Too long," Thorin huffed, sending a glare at the wall behind which his crazy sister and her idiotic friends were behaving as if they had never seen a dwarfling before. Children weren't exactly common, but he had seen dwarflings around in the past few years – several years older than Fili, yes, but still. And besides, Fili was over a week old. They'd had ample time to squeal over him like cats getting their tails stepped on. _

_ "Do yourself a favor," Firnen advised, "And come with me. She said she wanted you here – she didn't say this room." He cast the same wall a dark look, one that Thorin didn't fail to catch. _

_ "And what wrong have they inflicted upon you?" _

_ "Made me sit with them," Firnen groused, glaring at Thorin when he barked out a short laugh. "As if they wanted to see whether each strand of my son's hair is the same color as mine." _

_ Thorin chuckled again, abandoning the whittling in favor of laughing at Firnen. The dwarf was so easygoing – it was no surprise that Dis had married him. But he was also much easier to manipulate than either Frerin or Thorin because of it. _

_ "Atkât," Firnen snapped, albeit with a smile in his voice and eyes. Thorin, out of pity for the younger dwarf, complied, silencing his laughter. Women could terrorize even the fiercest dwarf when they wanted to. Just look at him. Sitting here meekly, carving a piece of wood, not wanting to antagonize his little sister. Thorin sighed. The shame would make his beard grow backwards, if it wasn't for the fact that nearly every dwarf alive – save for Frerin, who feared nothing at all, not even Thorin's wrath – was petrified of her anger. _

_ Standing fluidly, Firnen beckoned to Thorin, heading into the kitchen and plucking something off a tray. He tossed it to Thorin, who snatched it out of the air and grinned. Dis would kill them both, but her honey cakes were to die for. _

_ "It's her own fault," Firnen rationalized as they headed into the room where Firnen stored his sizeable collection of arms. "She shouldn't have just left them there. She was practically asking us to help ourselves." _

_ "Of course," Thorin grinned, taking another bite out of his. He wasn't sure what was making either of them so friendly towards each other – normally they kept a greater distance between them, Mahal knew exactly why – but today that distance seemed to have vanished. And Thorin was so grateful for some male company that he was not about to rebuff Firnen. _

_ "And if she does get angry, well, I'm sure Frerin will make sure we get a proper burial." _

_ "He'd better." _

_ The dwarves laughed to themselves, and Thorin hefted a war hammer in his hands, admiring the balance. "It is well made," he observed, twirling it through the air. _

_ Firnen scoffed. "No need to sound surprised." _

_ "Did I really?" _

_ "Just a little." For a moment Firnen held Thorin's gaze, and then he dropped his eyes. "Thank you." Thorin raised an eyebrow, and Firnen sighed. "You have mastered these" – he swept a hand out towards the various weapons in the room – "far better than I have – or anyone else, for that matter." _

_ "Firnen, you –"_

_ His brother-in-law held up a hand, and Thorin fell silent. "Teach my son." Green eyes met a shocked blue pair, and Firnen's lips curved into a smile at the other's expression. "There are many things I can do for him, but with weapons…You are the best, Thorin. Fili is lucky to have you as his uncle. Will you –"_

_ "Of course," Thorin assured him, surprised to find his voice rather raspy. He cleared his throat – there must have been something stuck there. Not emotion. Definitely not pride or affection. Spring weather would be the death of them all. "He is my nephew, Firnen. He is of the line of Durin. He is a born warrior – and I will help him on his way. However I can." _

_ Firnen inclined his head, unwilling to wrap his arms around Thorin in a bear hug the way he often did with Frerin. "Thank you." _

_ "It will be my pleasure," Thorin smiled. And then they both winced as Dis shouted their names from the direction of the kitchen. _

_ "I'll leave a note for Frerin telling him I'd like yellow roses at my funeral," Firnen whispered, trying to look innocent as the door burst open to reveal Dis, and Thorin smirked even as the wrath of his sister descended upon both their heads. _

Hollow. That was how his life felt now, compared to what it had once been. Thorin regretted now that he had never had the openly affectionate relationship with Firnen that Frerin had. He would never have the chance now to tell the green-eyed dwarf how much he had cared for him, despite the fact that he had rarely shown it. All he could do now was stand by the promise he had made him. And hope that, along the way, he could give the lads at least a small piece of the love and care that Firnen – and Dis – would have.

Heavy footsteps sounded behind him; Thorin didn't bother turning. He knew only one dwarf who walked that way.

"How long have you been here?"

"Long enough."

Dwalin huffed. "Come on out. I've been needing to get some good practice in. The last dwarf who dared spar with me gave out in minutes."

Thorin snorted. "I cannot believe he lasted a full minute."

"He runs faster than I do," Dwalin conceded, grasping Thorin's upper arm and pulling him up. "Now come on."

"The lads –"

"Are sleeping, Oin's still sitting with them. They'll be fine."

"Give me a minute," Thorin said, leaving Dwalin behind as he moved towards the slightly-ajar door behind which his nephews were. When he pushed it open enough to glance in, he saw Fili holding Kili tenderly to him, blond hair mixing with brown. Both were sleeping soundly, nestled safely together, and Oin was so occupied in carving something into his ear trumpet that he didn't even notice Thorin at the door.

He released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. The boys were alright. He could only pray they stayed that way.

Returning to the entrance, Thorin followed Dwalin out the door, kicking it shut behind him. The sun, not yet risen, bathed the horizon in a tentative light blue hue, a sharp contrast with the dark sky and twinkling stars above them still.

Thorin hefted his sword, bending into a crouch. It had been far too long.

-:-

When Fili's eyes fluttered open, the first thing he noticed was the wan sunlight peeking in through the curtains, and the comfortable weight of his brother's small head on his shoulder. Kili was still snoring, which meant he was alive. Good.

Carefully, so as not to startle the dreaming baby dwarf into waking, Fili shifted so that he was partially sitting up, wincing as his scalp twinged in protest. Kili had a thumb in his mouth, and the other hand was fisted in Fili's hair. The older dwarfling sighed. Some things would never change.

As he gently freed his hair from Kili's clutches, Fili frowned. The room was empty. Uncle Thorin was nowhere in sight – nor were any of the others. But an ear-trumpet was lying on the chair by the fireplace, which meant that the healer who had tried to force the drink down Kili's throat was nearby. Fili didn't know how he felt about that, besides sleepy.

His attention was diverted when Kili began whimpering, his eyes moving rapidly behind tightly shut lids. For a moment indecision gripped him, and then Kili began quivering with fear as the soft cries began to grow louder. Fili knew what this was. Nightmare.

"Kili!" Fili shook his little brother, growling in frustration when Kili, still asleep, tried to flinch away from him. "Kili! Wake up!"

With a gasp, Kili's eyes snapped open, the pupils already dilated with terror, his chest heaving so much that Fili was afraid it was paining him. "Fiwi!" With a cry, Kili dove into his brother's arms, shuddering.

"It was just a nightmare," Fili promised, feeling his head begin to pound. Kili's night-terrors had nearly ceased before that horrible attack twelve days ago. But now this. He hated to see his little brother so scared, so helpless.

"Was golbin?" Kili's brown eyes were wide, and Fili knew what he was asking to know. And not for the first time, he wished that Uncle Thorin was in the room. He didn't have much information to give. Nor did he know how to deliver the little he knew.

"No," Fili said comfortingly, patting down strands of brown hair sticking up in various directions, trying not to think of how close he had come to never being able to do this again. "It was an orc."

Kili frowned. "Why, Fiwi?"

Fili shook his head, hating the fact that his hands were beginning to shake, just with the fear that the _memory _of that day could conjure. He hated being so weak. "I don't know, Kili."

Kili glanced wildly around the room, his brown hair flying. "Where Mummy?"

He couldn't breathe. His throat had closed up, his heartbeat thudding abnormally in his ears, so loud that he could barely here Kili whines of "Wan' Mummy!"

Envy. That was what he felt. He was _jealous _that Kili could still cry for Mum, as if she could come back. As if she could hear him. He envied Kili his ignorance. But Fili didn't know how to respond now. Should he tell Kili what had happened? Or make up some lies to smooth the moment over until Uncle Thorin came back? But even as Kili turned his large eyes upon him, begging for an answer, Fili knew he couldn't lie. He wouldn't be able to handle the mistrust and pain in Kili's face when he found out the truth later.

"Kili," he said hoarsely, forcing his little brother to sit still and look at him. Brushing away a tear trailing down the pale, small cheek. Hating himself for what he was about to do. "Kili, Mum's…not coming back."

Silence. Which was very unusual with Kili around – even while asleep, the dwarfling snored. Fili held his breath. Waiting.

"Where she go?" Kili's eyes were very round, but he looked more befuddled than distraught, making Fili wonder if he'd said the right thing.

Fili bit his lip. He didn't know how to do this! What was he supposed to – furrowing his brow in concentration, he tried to remember what Uncle Thorin had said to him two years ago, on Kili's first birthday…The memory was fuzzy; all he could really remember was the pain of that day. And the first time he had looked down upon his baby brother.

"She's gone to Aulë's halls," he sighed, knowing he had failed the moment Kili's eyes brightened.

"So we gon' see Mummy 'gain?"

Fili swallowed hot tears, not wanting Kili to see him cry. _Be strong like Uncle Thorin, _he told himself. "Yes," he choked out, because it was the truth and he didn't know what else to do anymore, letting Kili snuggle up against him and close his eyes again, convinced still that all was right with the world. "One day."

Moments later Kili had again succumbed to the allure of his childish dreams, whatever they were, and Fili lay still, allowing his brother to pillow his small head on his shoulder. With a small shiver, he remembered seeing Kili collapse to the ground, blood gushing from his prone body, and all the fear of that moment returned, making him hold onto Kili even tighter, thanking Mahal for the snores that he had once found so incredibly irritating. How could he have hated the sound of his little brother's snores when they proved that Kili was still alive? Still breathing? Clinging to life with the same tenacity he used to hold onto everything else he wanted?

But no matter how many times Fili repeated to himself that Kili was alive, that the tiny dwarfling's heart was still beating, he couldn't change one fact: while Kili had been saved, he had not done the saving. He had not done what he should have, and being a failure hurt more than anything – because this time, it had been Kili's life in the balance. And he had _failed _to save it.

He couldn't even bear to consider what would have happened if Bofur hadn't been there; if Oin hadn't been there. If Uncle Thorin hadn't been there. They had rescued Kili. And he had just stood there, watching. He had gotten himself locked out – he hadn't even _watched_. He had left Kili to fight desperately for life alone.

Tears dripped in an uneven drizzle down Fili's cheeks onto Kili's hair, but Fili didn't notice, and neither did his brother. He glanced down at his hands. Small, unmarked, and so _weak _compared to Uncle Thorin's. Fili could remember his father's hands picking him up when he was younger – and they, too, had been so much stronger than his. Although he kept trying to deny it, Fili knew, deep down, what he was. What he truly was.

Useless.

He couldn't protect the one person who actually needed him. He couldn't be the prince that Balin and the others expected him to be. Uncle Thorin couldn't even look at him without that tortured expression appearing in his eyes and face. He was a failure, a useless failure, and Fili didn't know how to fix himself.

What he did know was that he couldn't stand the innocent _trust _with which Kili was cuddling up to him. He didn't deserve that trust. And one day, if Kili ever found out what exactly had happened after he had so bravely given his life for one that didn't deserve to be sacrificed for, Fili knew that he would be the reason for destroying both Kili's innocence and trust.

Because a brother's betrayal is impossible to forgive. It shouldn't exist. But he had brought it into being.

Gently freeing his tunic from the tight clasp of Kili's hands, wondering how fingers so small could have so much strength, Fili slipped on his boots and escaped the room. He needed air. He needed to breathe. But his lungs couldn't remember how.

Oin was in the next room, talking with someone. Fili recognized the accent. It was Bofur. As if he needed another reminder of the moment he had ruined his life – and nearly taken his brother's. He was a murderer. He didn't even deserve to be in the same room as Kili. Because one of them had saved a life. Only one.

Standing on his toes, Fili shoved the front door open and tumbled out into the sharp morning air. And the first thing he heard was the clang of metal on metal. Following the din, Fili found himself watching his Uncle Thorin and…well, he couldn't remember the other dwarf's name, but he remembered him as the one who had come to tell them that Kili had woken. With the tattoos. Dwalin? They were whirling around each other in a furious, deadly dance, their swords spinning through the air to meet each other.

Entranced, Fili crept closer, his eyes eagerly drinking in their swift, assured movements, the way each seemed to be able to anticipate the other's move and could respond in kind. He watched their footwork, noticing how while Uncle Thorin's was somewhat more graceful than Dwalin's, they both constantly moved their feet to remain balanced, perpetually adjusting their bodies almost unconsciously. Spinning over the ground. Even with their differing styles, Fili was quick to find the similarities, things they both did to center themselves, to give themselves the maximum advantage with every offensive and defensive motion. Angles, planes of movement. Always perfect.

Uncle Thorin swung his blade up, blocking a strike the same way he had taught Fili to, and the simple motion brought tears to the sunny-haired dwarfling's eyes. The other dwarf had attacked the same way the orc had – he would have recognized that fatal motion even in his dreams. And now he knew that he _had _known how to defend himself – and Kili – from the blow.

The acidic guilt began bubbling up from a festering pit in his gut, scorching every inch of his body with the realization that he had _known_. He had been taught exactly how to parry such a blow and he had _failed. _Inexperience was no longer an excuse he could lean on, because now he, if no one else, knew the truth.

Something gleaming in the morning sun caught his eye. His uncle had left his other weapons lying on the ground, shielded from the grass and dirt by his coat. The axe was too heavy for Fili and he knew it – but there was a beautiful dagger nearly hidden behind it that was perfectly within his ability to lift.

-:-

Thorin reveled in the strain on his muscles as he put his body through its paces, flying through the fray with Dwalin. They had done this for years, training together to further hone their skills, to keep them as sharp as their blades. And now the familiar movements were helping him to shake off the fear and the helpless, blind rage that had settled into his bones.

The physical pain provided a perfect escape from the memories of how he had sat by Kili through those long, terrifyingly lonely and silent nights. Sometimes he would hum the tune he'd heard Fili singing to his little brother, hoping that the familiarity of the lulling melody would draw Kili out of the darkness and back into their lives. And in addition, the humming was a survival mechanism for him. It ensured that he remembered to breathe.

He'd sat there, from dawn to dusk, trying not to remember how it felt to hold those dwarflings he loved so much in his arms. The way holding children felt like holding pure love, a selfless love. From them you can expect nothing, you can gain nothing, and yet it is the easiest to love them. Maybe because it is purely your choice, not the desire to benefit. Simply the desire to love, and be loved. To fill that void in your heart, if even for that heartbeat where their gaze connects with yours, and for a moment your heart warms with a love so powerful you want to never let them go.

Dwalin's sword descended upon him in a furious rush, and Thorin sidestepped, catching the strike on the hilt of his own.

He just wanted to _forget _everything, even if it was only for a short while. Just to be a blank slate, to be free of the memories weighing him down with every breath. The faces, the hands, the eyes – eyes missing that spark of life. He knew only too well what they looked like.

A knuckleduster swung up at him, and Thorin growled, using his forearm to bat the blow away and retaliating with one of his own.

What could he do for Fili? The boy's blue eyes looked so broken, so shattered, only when he thought no one could see him. Thorin just didn't know how to comfort him. Mahal, he didn't even know what was plaguing him, besides the fact that Kili had nearly…died. But Kili was recovering well now; that should have healed the cracks in Fili's eyes. It hadn't, which led Thorin to believe that there was something more torturing his sister-son. It hurt that he didn't know what. And he didn't know how to find out.

"Enough?" Dwalin panted, staggering backwards slightly.

Thorin nodded his assent, gulping in deep breaths. "Enough."

"Thank you for not running from me the entire time," Dwalin chuckled, sucking in deep lungfuls of air between his words. "It was a nice change."

"Aye," Thorin agreed, smirking slightly at the mental image of a panicked dwarf running from an irate Dwalin. "It must have been." He stooped down, hefting his axe up from the ground, when he froze. "Dwalin, did you borrow my dagger?"

"You know I never use those things," Dwalin huffed. His dislike of daggers – even swords, he only used those when Thorin wanted to spar with them – was well known. And as one of his closer friends, Thorin ought to remember that. "Why in Aulë's name would I –"

"Well, then, where has it gone? I am sure I –"

"Thorin." Dwalin pointed to the scuff marks in the dirt – clearly made by small boots, the prints too close together to be the stride of even a half-grown dwarf. He knew exactly whose feet had made those marks, and, judging by the way the crownless king paled, so did Thorin. In an instant Thorin had sprung into motion, following the trail of footprints around the corner house nearby, and Dwalin leaned forward against his axe, planting it solidly in the dirt, trying not to worry. Fili had probably just borrowed it to show his brother – those two dwarflings, if memory served, were obsessed with Thorin's weaponry. He'd heard his friend griping on about their affinity for all things sharp and shiny on a fairly regular basis. He examined the tattoos on his knuckles, suddenly grateful he didn't have nephews. And hoping that Thorin's hadn't done anything they shouldn't have. _Mahal protect them_. The entire family had lost too much to lose any more.

-:-

Thorin followed the trail of tiny footprints, trying not to recall the time he had tried to lift a sword while still a dwarfling and had grievously injured himself. He could still vividly remember the blood, pain, and fear, and the terrified faces of his family – and those scarring memories did nothing to assuage his worry that his sister-son had done something similar. All he could do was thank Mahal that Fili had left a trail behind him. It had to be Fili – Kili probably couldn't even sit up on his own.

His brows came together in a frown as he found himself standing outside the house he had left his nephews in. Stepping inside, he nodded a greeting to Oin, who was mixing two liquids together in a small jar, and strode past, peering into every room he went by, most of which contained the dwarves wounded in the battle. Many had recovered by now, but some were still healing. He wasn't sure if the same could be said for Fili.

When he glanced into Kili's room he found Kili snoring peacefully against his pillow, and for a moment he lingered there in the doorway, closing his eyes and listening, thankful beyond belief that he could at least hear that sound again. It had been absent from his life for so long.

Turning away, he edged the opposite door open a little wider with the tip of his boot, and felt his jaw slacken. Fili was standing before him, the blade in his hand. Well, not exactly standing.

The dwarfling was slashing through the air, Thorin's blade clutched tightly in his one hand, the other out to balance him against the weapon that was undoubtedly uncomfortably heavy for him. Thorin stared, unable to even find his voice, as Fili swung fluidly through the same movement, over and over, a simple strike followed by a defensive block that he had taught his nephew about two weeks ago. He was struck by how easily Fili managed the real blade, wielding it as if he had been born with the dagger in his hand. But Thorin couldn't understand why his nephew would insist on repeating the same pattern. Fili had mastered the combination within moments of learning it – and it was evident now that his body was perfectly acclimatized to the motions.

So he stood there in the doorway and watched, unobserved, his eyes following the way Fili was furiously stabbing at nothing, his young sapling form constantly readjusting itself, somewhat clumsily at times, trying to accommodate patterns of footwork that Thorin recognized from…from the way he himself fought. And suddenly he knew what had happened. Fili had, for some reason, left the house, and once outdoors he must have heard the din he and Dwalin invariably created when they sparred. It was clear that Fili had decided to practice the footwork he'd observed, or the strike pattern, or both, but for the life of him Thorin still couldn't understand why.

Fili was sweating now, his arm shaking with the weight of the blade, yet he was still battling the air, a snarl on his young face, but it was his blue eyes that arrested Thorin's attention. They were glittering with a kind of undulating rage that Thorin had seen only rarely, but always on the faces of grown dwarves, often on the battlefield. To see it in the eyes of a child, in the eyes of his sister-son, the very dwarfling it was _his _duty now to protect from something like this…It was terrifying. Because suddenly he wasn't watching a child anymore. He was watching an adult. And it reminded him of that horrifying moment he had looked at Fili to see himself. Someone wearing a mask, a hard one – although Fili had not yet learned to wear it, and Thorin had torn it from him before he could. Thankfully.

Thorin had always known that Fili would grow up one day to be a skilled warrior – he'd known it the first time he'd put a wooden sword in that small hand and taught the dwarfling how to hold it. He'd been so proud that day, to know that the blood in his nephew's veins was the same as his. Until this day, he'd never been so afraid of that same fact.

Fili repeated the sequence, panting audibly now, and in a sudden flash Thorin understood. The desperation and fury in Fili's eyes made perfect sense – because it was this same sequence that Fili had failed to execute when his and Kili's lives had been in danger. Without knowing how he knew, Thorin could _feel _with absolute certainty that it was true. There was no other explanation for it. And he couldn't stand by and watch Fili torture himself any longer.

Stepping forward, he seized his nephew's wrist, prying the blade out of fingers shaking with exhaustion, knowing better than to berate the lad now. Dropping to his knees, he studied Fili's face, trying to gauge how best to approach him. What to say. He had never felt so helpless without words before. He'd never needed them before. But now actions were a superfluity. He needed the words, the ones that would right the innumerable wrongs that had been done. And he didn't know where and how to find them.

"You handle the blade well," Thorin settled on saying, knowing in his gut that they were the wrong words. Fili didn't respond, just continued to pant, the only sound in the room. He sighed. "Fili, what's the matter?"

Looking at the floor, blinking rapidly a few times, Fili shook his head, his blond hair flying. And of all things, Thorin took that moment to notice that the few braids in his hair had nearly come undone, it had been so long since they had been remade. Without a word, he reached out and loosened one, allowing the strands to free themselves from each other, and when all the braids had been opened up, he began the process anew, his fingers deftly twining the golden hair into neat, dwarven braids.

"I knew what to do," Fili blurted out as Thorin was on the second-last braid, and his voice was so full of anguish that Thorin's eyes instantly snapped up, his fingers freezing where they were, shocked by the amount of pain in his nephew's voice.

"Fili, what –"

"You showed me!" Fili's shouts were shrill, and Thorin hushed him, not wanting to wake Kili in the opposite room. Taking a quavering breath and lowering his voice, he whispered, "It really is my fault, Uncle Thorin. I knew what to do! And I could do it, I just didn't –"

"Quiet, Fili," Thorin said peremptorily, hating the way Fili flinched slightly at his tone, but unable to handle the way Fili couldn't forgive himself for his one mistake. He didn't know what to do, what to say, to make it better. For a moment he considered telling Fili about how badly he had failed Frerin, his own brother. Of how he had allowed himself to be separated from his baby brother on the battlefield, and how when he had found him again, Frerin was dead. Gone, forever. But he knew that instead of putting this moment into perspective, his own story of loss and pain would only make Fili feel worse. He would continue to berate himself, telling himself that he could have killed Kili. No doubt he was doing that already, on his own.

Thorin took a breath, praying to Mahal for guidance. "Fili, Listen to me closely. This – none of this – was your fault, as I have already told you. In situations like that, no dwarf is ever in full control. Accidents happen, Fili. What we have to do is fight back at them when they do. You did – and so did Kili. Both of you are going to be alright." Fili made an odd sound, between a sob and a snort, and Thorin gripped his sister-son's thin shoulders in hands tightly, forcing the dwarfling to make eye contact. "You are _both _going to be alright, Fili," he said quietly, assuredly. "I promise."

For a heartbeat Fili held his uncle's gaze, and then he dropped his eyes, nodding defeatedly. Thorin's heart sank – but it perked up with hope when Fili raised his head again, something else shining forth in those blue eyes. This time it wasn't anger, or sadness. It was a steely determination – the kind that Thorin had often been told made his own eyes appear more gray than blue. It was what gave him strength and resolve in his darkest moments. And it was doing the same for Fili.

"Will you teach me?" Fili asked, lifting the blade that Thorin had allowed to drop to the floor. "With this?" When Thorin looked unsure, Fili begged, "Please, Uncle Thorin? So that – so that it doesn't happen again?"

Thorin's hands unconsciously held Fili's shoulders with an even stronger grip. _So that it doesn't happen again_. Did his nephew really think he would allow something like this? "Fili," he said slowly, "I will _not _allow this, anything like this, to happen again. Do you hear me?" He paused, searching Fili's eyes for something. Even just a faint glimmer. "And yes, I will teach you. But with a blade made for you, not for me."

It was a bittersweet sort of feeling, the sight of the joy and hope blooming in Fili's eyes. Thorin knew that teaching Fili would help him regain some semblance of control over the shambles life had suddenly become – it would help him be more confident of his ability to protect his brother. But it felt too much like a betrayal of Dis. It was too soon. Fili was too young to be trained with weapons for warriors. Yet as far as he could tell, there was no other way to bring Fili back – the old Fili. He wanted to dispel the haunted cloud of darkness in Fili's eyes; this was the only way he could. And he would do it, a hundred times over, if it meant that someday he would see Fili smile again.

And because hope was the only thing he had to give Fili now.

**A/N: Reviews? Please? Pretty please? As you guys know by now, they motivate me like you wouldn't believe, and I love to hear from you guys – even one-liners are good, although so many of you are indulging me and typing out beautiful long reviews! Balloons and hugs and party favors all around, and extra baked goodies for anyone who leaves a review! Plus when I feel unmotivated while writing, I go back and read them for inspiration – they really do help me write. Thank you for your support with the last chapter, and thank you for reading! **

**Take care, I'll see you next chapter :)**


	11. Break

Hi everyone! I know, I'm so sorry – you all probably clicked this thinking I've updated, and I wish I had. But I'm leaving for vacation today and I won't be back till late this month, so I just wanted to let you know that there probably won't be a new chapter till I get back…I AM SO SORRY. PLEASE FORGIVE ME. Life has just been so busy. But I'm already halfway through the new chapter, so hopefully it won't take too long to finish! And I have some regular readers who haven't reviewed my last chapter yet, so I would love to have some reviews in my inbox when I get back! Again, I am so so so sorry, and thank you for bearing with me! Have a great summer till I see you next!

Love you guys,

Cockapoo xxx


	12. See You Again

**A/N: Finally, I am back! It's so nice to be home, I can't tell you. And I am so so sorry it's taken me this long to update, you have all been so sweet and patient – thank you! Here's the next chapter, I don't know how it's turned out but I hope you like it! A big hug and thank you to everyone who's been reading, reviewing, subscribing…you guys make my day! I've had so many long, lovely reviews from you that I don't even know how to thank you anymore. Thank you, thank you from the bottom of my heart for sticking with and supporting me as I write this story, and for making this experience such a wonderful one! The title for this chapter comes from Carrie Underwood's beautiful song See You Again, if you haven't heard it I strongly recommend listening. Hope you enjoy the chapter, please leave a review when you finish! xxx**

See You Again

_You are the stars to me, you are the light I follow…_

Finally alone, Thorin collapsed in front of the desolate, empty fireplace in what used to be Dis's home, kneading his knuckles into his forehead, breathing heavily. The knife he had taken from Fili before leaving the boy with his younger brother and Oin gleamed on the floor where he had dropped it, the blade glistening in the dull light leaking through drawn curtains like dew on a blade of grass basking in the newborn rays of dawn's glow, and in a sudden burst of rage he kicked it away, deriving a baseless satisfaction in the way it skittered helplessly across the wood, crashing against the leg of a chair and spinning away into stillness.

Silence. He couldn't remember the last time this house had been so deathly quiet, so unsettlingly dark, like a graveyard. Part of him kept waiting for Dis to round the corner, scolding him for not starting a fire or opening the drapes; part of him was waiting for Kili to scramble over to him demanding a retelling of his favorite story; part of him was waiting for Frerin and Firnen to amble in through the closed door, sniggering over a prank they played on some unsuspecting dwarf. And part of him knew he was pining for moments long past, for people and love that he would never find again.

He was helpless against it, this tide of fate intent on carrying away in its frothing waters anyone he tried to hold. Maybe it was his fault, maybe it was his bad luck tearing lives apart, friends, brothers, entire families ruined because of him. His own cursed ill luck. Destiny. When he was young the world had held so much promise, and he had envisioned adventures, maybe even a family of his own one day. Never had he imagined this. He felt as if he were in Death's antechamber, watching one by one his family be claimed by the inky blackness, waiting for his turn. Waiting to see them again. And terrified that he never would.

What had he done? Promising to train Fili at so tender an age was madness, why had he not refused his nephew? _Because you couldn't stand that look in his eyes, _his mind whispered. _Because you were afraid of what he would do if you refused him_. Which was true. In those seconds after the question had slipped from his sister-son's mouth, Thorin had nearly put his foot down – and then his brain had conjured up nightmarish scenarios in which he found his heir dead, killed by an attempt to wield an axe on his own. At least this way he would be able to hone the lad's skills, to guide him, to protect him – in whatever small way this agreement would allow him to. Because he knew that Fili was a child no longer. Only in body now, not in mind.

He was still so small…Thorin could remember a time when the dwarfling's fingers could not wrap fully around his much larger thumb. Even Kili was growing fast, and how this would change them both was something he couldn't predict. But change them it would. How could it not? Already he could see flashes of that in Fili. From the day he had learned to roll over, Fili had had an intensity about him that Kili, who was so much more impulsive and mischievous and lively, did not – he would choose a goal and never rest until he attained it. He constantly had something to achieve, and was relentless in his pursuit. Dis's death, and Kili's injury, had given Fili a goal he shouldn't have had for another six years or so, but it wasn't anything unnatural. If that was any consolation.

Kili was different. He was more like Frerin and Firnen, whereas Fili was surprisingly like Thorin. The dark-haired dwarfling was a free spirit, an excitable child, someone who bounced from one thing to another with little thought for what he had left behind. But he had never known loss in his life, whereas Fili and Thorin both had, and what worried the crownless king was that his younger sister-son may not be able to cope with the loss of his mother, especially with a brother so changed. But Fili loved Kili dearly, that much was clear. Maybe he was just being too morbid. Yet how could he not be?

He simply would not know how any of them would change until it happened. But waiting is always the hardest part of life – at least while experiencing a calamity you have the option to react, you know which forces are with and against you. While waiting, you are so alone you can hear your own heartbeat, and are left to wonder how many more you have. How many you have squandered already. How many more you will let go by without a memory of love to anchor them to you somewhere deep within yourself, so that time's reaching fingers cannot steal them from you.

Lost in his thoughts, Thorin jumped when he heard a sharp rap on the door. "Thorin?" Definitely Balin's voice. "I know you're in there, open the door."

Thorin just scuffed his boot against the floor, running his thumb against the sharp edge of his axe, listening to the blade sing softly.

"Laddie, open the door. _Now_."

Somehow the bite in Balin's tone inspired Thorin to stand, and he cracked the door open, looking down into the white-bearded dwarf's somber face. "Yes?"

"Don't shut yourself up, Thorin," Balin said quietly. "Don't do this now. Kili's awake, he wants to know where you are."

Exhaling sharply, Thorin ran a hand through his tangled hair, feeling his brows draw together in a frown. Although he was glad that Kili was strong and coherent enough to both register that he wasn't there and demand to know where he was – Balin's phrasing had made it clear that Kili had been doing something a little more forceful than simply asking – Thorin didn't know if he could face either of his nephews at the moment. Not today, not when he was to bury their mother today.

"Has he asked for Dis?" Saying her name felt like the burning coal he'd been balancing on his tongue ever since her passing had finally slipped past his guard and down his gullet, scorching every inch of him with a searing, blinding pain. But he had to say it. He was soon going to have to say much worse. Explaining to Kili that Dis was gone would be so different from telling Fili, and Thorin didn't know what he was supposed to do.

"No," Balin said heavily, eyeing his king closely from beneath bushy eyebrows. "Thorin, after you left him with Oin, Fili came out to speak with me when I passed by. He said…he wanted me to tell you that he already told Kili about their mother. He said that Kili asked for her when you weren't there, and…Thorin!" Reaching out, Balin grabbed Thorin's shoulder, steadying the younger dwarf as he swayed alarmingly. "You need to sit, laddie. When was the last time you ate anything?"

Thorin mumbled something incoherent, too far gone to realize just how unkingly and unlike him mumbling like a madman was. Balin frowned, helping the dark-haired king to sit on the doorstep, suddenly understanding that his friend was in complete and utter shock. "Mahal help us," he muttered, turning to see if his brother was anywhere in the vicinity. Of course, Dwalin was nowhere near whenever he was actually needed. "Stay here," Balin ordered, firmly convinced that Thorin was at this point weak as a kitten, and therefore in no condition to go anywhere. "I'll be back in a moment."

Scarcely hearing him, Thorin nodded. He didn't know what to think anymore. How on earth had Fili…and how had Kili taken it? Had he understood? How could one child possibly explain death to another? If any dwarfling could do it, then Fili was the one, but…

Filled with a sudden sense of foreboding, Thorin drew himself up on unsteady legs, but had to seize the doorknob behind him to steady himself. He would never make it anywhere in this state. He hadn't eaten or slept in longer than he cared to admit, and it was catching up to him. Glancing around, his sharp eyes caught sight of the wineskin he had left on one of the chairs a week or so ago. It was still half full, and Thorin took a long draught, perfectly aware that the dwarves' potent moonshine would bolster him only temporarily. He would need to sleep it off later, after the funeral in the evening.

In moments he could feel its effects seeping through his veins, lending an artificial strength to his body, and he strode from the house, wondering what to say to his sister-sons when he saw them. Maybe silence would be the best, but Kili would never understand it. Fili might, but not Kili. He would see it as a rejection…but it was all Thorin had to offer. Words had never been his strong suit.

The doorway of the house-turned-infirmary was open, and the foyer empty. Thorin moved through the halls unnoticed, as there was a surprising racket ringing through the house – probably the patients. Dwarves were not the sort to lie quietly and wait for their injuries to heal. Little Kili was not alone in being an incredibly difficult patient at the best of times. He could hear Oin yelling irritably in what must have been the makeshift kitchen, but he walked by, having come to the same room so often that he could probably find his way in the dark.

Pausing in the doorway, he nudged the door open with his foot and peered in, narrowing his eyes at the sight before him. Fili was sitting on a stool by the edge of the bed, facing the wall to Thorin's left, his back ramrod straight and his gaze focused entirely on the wall. He didn't move a muscle, not even when the door opened, which was entirely out of character. But as Kili squealed a greeting, Thorin figured out why.

"Kili, don't move, lad!" Hurrying forward, he dropped a kiss on Kili's head, sitting down on the bed beside him before the unfortunately hyperactive dwarfling could try to run to the door.

"Look wha' Mister Oin gotted me!" Kili exclaimed excitedly, pointing at a large silver bowl piled high with strawberries and blueberries.

"Excellent," Thorin murmured, tugging down the neck of Kili's tunic so he could get a look at the bandage that had been changed just that morning. It was clean, neatly tied, and unstained. The wound was no longer bleeding, and a sweet, warm sense of relief swept over him. It was going to be alright. And then he got a good look at Fili, and for the first time in days, Thorin found himself laughing, marveling at his tiny dark-haired nephew's ability to lighten his mood almost instantly. "Kili, what are you doing?"

"Makin' a towah," Kili said patiently, as if his uncle was a little slow in the head. It was perfectly obvious what he was doing. He was sitting up in bed, propped up against pillows, and Thorin realized that Oin had positioned them in such a way that Kili could stack fruit on Fili's head for as long as he liked without having to shift positions, because the stool was lower than the bed and the bowl was close at hand. He really needed to thank the deaf healer properly.

Leaning forward, Thorin glanced at Fili's face, the happiness in his heart evaporating. His young heir's expression was a mask, an empty one. He just looked exhausted, as if he couldn't handle any more, and yet he was sacrificing whatever he wanted to do – probably swinging blades around some more – to let Kili amuse himself. Fili had always been unusually patient with his younger brother, but it awed Thorin to see that easy love and trust and understanding between them, something even he and his brother, although they too had been close, had not fully shared.

It would be so easy. All Thorin wanted was to hold his nephews tight and tell them how proud he was of Fili and how much he treasured Kili, but instead he sat there, nodding dumbly as Kili prattled on, explaining how each blueberry and strawberry fit together to create his "towah." And somehow, they were actually balancing atop each other, even with their anything-but-uniform shapes. Maybe the smiths could learn something from this child.

What he couldn't understand was how Kili seemed so…so normal, even after knowing about Dis. Fili was not alright, and he perhaps never would be, but Kili was exactly the same as he was before. No child that young is a good actor, which led Thorin to dread the moment he would have to twist that smile off his nephew's face, and replace it with a premature understanding of death, of how the world tears the innocents apart first. Ruffling Kili's hair lightly, Thorin stood up, hearing Balin's irate tone from outside the door and knowing he was in for it.

"Don' go!" Kili wailed, just as Balin opened the door and stepped inside, a smile on his face.

"He's quite right, Thorin," Balin said, giving a sprightly bow to the two young princelings, making them giggle – Kili's tower nearly toppled off Fili's head, but the blond dwarfling caught himself just in time and lay still – "You shouldn't leave them alone now. They've been waiting for you for quite a while, Oin told me. But can I borrow your uncle for just a moment, lads?"

Kili didn't respond, fully occupied in trying to wind one of Fili's braids around his now finished tower without collapsing the entire thing, but Fili gave a hoarse "yes," and Balin promptly seized Thorin's arm and spun him out of the room, promising to bring him back in moments.

"Thorin," Balin said sternly, dragging his captured quarry down the hall into the kitchen, "I cannot blame you for wanting to be with them right now, but when I asked you to stay you could have at least told me you had no intention of doing so." He shoved the exhausted king down into a chair, lifting a slightly trembling hand and slapping a bowl of stew into it. "May I ask how you even made it here without collapsing?"

Thorin gave himself a moment to sample the cooking, realizing when the flavors exploded in his mouth that Bombur had been in charge. Bless him. It took another few minutes before he remembered that Balin had asked him something, and then he decided that it wasn't a pertinent question and he wasn't about to waste his time on it. Letting the empty bowl clatter onto the table, he stood, ignoring Balin's self-satisfied grin. But he did notice when the smirk vanished, replaced by a tremulous look that he understood only too well.

"You should warn them," Balin suggested quietly, knowing that this must have occurred to Thorin as well and unwilling to put his friend in deeper misery. But if the dwarflings had any hope of coping, then the dwarves themselves would have to accept this first.

"How, Balin?" Thorin demanded, turning to face him, his forehead creased and his once clear blue eyes now murky, flashing with grief and pain. "What do you say to tell them that their mother is _dead?" _

Balin winced at the raw agony in Thorin's voice, bowing his head at the vehemence in his tone. "You remind them that you love them," he said softly, praying that he could actually help. "You remind them that we are all here for them. And for you. None of you are alone, Thorin. And she will always be with you."

_I will never leave you, I promise. I will watch over you from Aulë's halls. _Soft and loving, that voice that had been there to comfort and tease and scold him, that voice that had sung two beautiful dwarflings to sleep, he could hear it still. Those words she had spoken before she died, the light of love and faith still shining in her eyes until his sister could no longer draw breath, until he held the cold weight of his failure in his arms _again_, wanting to scream but unable to breathe because she was gone, she had left him, she would never come back.

And he could not go to join her, because he had made her a promise. No matter what happened, come hell or high water, he could not abandon his sister-sons to the loneliness and mourning that gnawed at him every moment. He would protect their light, shelter their quavering flames until they learned to shine strong and bright on their own, even at the cost of his own.

His throat tight, Thorin found that he could not speak, but Balin did not seem to require a response. Instead, the older dwarf stepped forward and wrapped Thorin in a tight embrace that he slowly returned. Unlike Dwalin's fierce bear hugs, Balin's was more gentle, a gesture of comfort and dependability. "Thank you," Thorin whispered, his throat feeling rough like an uncut diamond, dipping his head in an old gesture of gratefulness before stepping back, squeezing Balin's shoulder one last time.

Balin held his peace as he watched his king walk tiredly down the hall before collapsing into the chair Thorin had just vacated, crinkling his eyes shut as a single tear rolled down his cheek and into his beard. Was it not enough that Thorin had just lost his sister? Was it not enough that he had no family except for those two young ones whose innocence he was being forced to destroy? When would this end? Images of the carnage at Azanulbizar flashed into his mind, and again he felt himself in the grip of that icy, heart-stopping terror, when he had lost sight of his brother and begun screaming his name, surrounded by his slain comrades. In the distance he had heard a desperate howl of grief and whirled to see Thorin fall to his knees before a body he recognized only too well. _Frerin_. From behind the kneeling prince – no, a king he was now – Balin saw another warrior emerge, placing a hand on Thorin's shoulder, and later he would be ashamed of that moment of sweet relief when he saw Dwalin alive; for that one moment, even though Thorin had lost nearly all his kin and so many of his own friends had been stripped of their lives. His brother had survived. Balin yearned to run over to him, to embrace him, but he could not, for before him another brother had been robbed of his own, another friendship too strong for words had been rent asunder.

The mingled pain and relief of that day still cut him to the quick, all these years later, even more so because their dead, so far beyond the count of grief, had been beyond the dwarves' ability to bury. Instead of the burial those fallen warriors had deserved, they had been cremated, and now when a dwarf was said to have been a "burned dwarf," the phrase was spoken with respect, pride, and sorrow.

At least Dis would have a proper burial, he reflected, but even that offered little comfort. Because she was leaving so much behind, a brother who loved her and two little lives already exposed to so much death. It was a silent specter behind them, haunting them, he had seen it in little Fili's eyes already. Kili was too young, he didn't and maybe couldn't understand, but soon he too would discover that no one goes on forever, that at some point people pass on. He had grown up without a father and so far had not questioned where his sire was, but perhaps the question would be voiced now.

But it was Fili for whom Balin's heart ached and bled, even more than for Thorin or Kili. While Kili had not yet noticed that anything was wrong with the elder brother he adored to pieces, Balin had. The youngster's eyes had been tense with worry, and something more – guilt, maybe, or anger, or something else entirely. He wasn't quite sure. Yet he was positive that Fili would never be the same after this, and that thought was confirmed when Dwalin stomped inside a few minutes later, itching to tell his brother what Thorin's heir had done during their sparring session.

-:-

When Thorin had returned to his nephews' room, he'd found Kili tucked into bed, fast asleep, and Oin shepherding Fili outside so he could "have Mister Balin tell you a story, alright, lad?"

Fully certain that Balin would keep an eye – probably both, knowing the dwarf – on Fili at all times, Thorin leaned against the wall, closing the door lightly behind him. Kili appeared so impossibly tiny, his thumb in his mouth as he lay flat – he usually slept curled into a little ball at Fili's side, but the wound was undoubtedly causing him too much pain for that. He was terribly pale, and Thorin searched the room desperately with his eyes, trying to find something to distract himself from how badly he had allowed his nephew to be hurt.

The chair Oin had vacated was suddenly surprisingly inviting, and Thorin sank into the wood, his aching feet grateful for the reprieve. Reaching out, he redid the few braids in Kili's soft hair, trying not to remember the many times he had done the same thing for another dwarf who Kili strongly resembled, before sleep's warm, heavy fingers stole over him and gently slid his eyelids shut.

-:-

A strong hand closed over his shoulder, and in an instant Thorin's eyes snapped open, the chair falling back with a clatter as he leaped to his feet, a fist rising to meet whoever had startled him, his heart pounding as the sudden jolt of adrenaline raced through his veins. Fortunately, Dwalin had years of experience with waking his friend, and caught the fist as it hurtled towards his face.

"Sorry," Thorin apologized, shifting his stance into one less threatening.

"It's alright," Dwalin grunted. He always woke the same way – years of hardship and stress on the battlefield had stolen from them the calm, peaceful slumber of the dwarfling still snoring in the room. Instead it had made them perpetual warriors, always tense, always ready for a fight. Always ready for and expecting the worst. It was what had kept them alive for so long. He watched Thorin wake the baby dwarf nestled in the covers, calling him gently and stroking his hair until he woke, easily and smilingly, the way the very young do, yawning and mumbling something about "Fiwi."

Thorin turned, flicking his eyes towards the door. Dwalin didn't need to be told twice – he walked out, hurting for his friend, his king. This was not going to be pleasant.

Pinching the bridge of his nose tightly between two fingers, praying to Mahal for guidance, Thorin gently lifted Kili out of his blankets and let his nephew perch on his knee, the dwarfling's eyes brightening rapidly as the haze of sleep was lifted from them. "Kili, do you remember what Fili told you about your mother?" _Excellent start, you dolt_, he thought, watching the baby dwarf's expression change from confusion to vague recollection, and suddenly the big brown eyes were beginning to fill with tears.

"Not comin' back?" Kili asked, as if begging his uncle to refute his brother's claim. But part of Kili knew that Uncle Thorin wouldn't, because Fili would never lie to him, and Fili knew everything…

"No," Thorin said gently, using a calloused thumb to wipe away the single tear that slipped down Kili's cheek, and trying to continue before Kili would ask the question he dreaded. Of course, Kili got there first.

"Where she go?" the child howled, looking as lost as a puppy without its mother – Thorin winced at the analogy, convinced his own mind hated him.

"She is going to Aulë now," Thorin said hoarsely, hating himself for not protecting Dis, for putting himself and this fragile, tiny child in this position. "But before she can go, we have to…we have to say goodbye. Can you do that, Kili?"

Brown eyes stared into his, wide with confusion as a single tear fell from their dark lashes. "Say good…" Kili's small voice trailed off, and his little brow furrowed as he attempted to understand what his uncle was asking of him. Thorin held his breath, drawing a blank as to what he should say, hoping that his little sister-son understood, because how do you explain to a child so young, still a baby, what death is? Why his mother will never return? Why he was never held by his father, why he never met his uncle or grandfather? Why other dwarflings will have parents, when he is now an orphan? Such an ugly word. And he had inflicted that upon not one child, but two. His fault.

Yet they still had him, small comfort though that was. Now he would have to replace both their parents, and honestly Thorin was terrified, because he knew he could not. He was a damaged warrior, a heart torn to pieces and barely holding together, a king with no kingdom…he had not the gentleness or loving patience to rear these two children he loved so much. He could kill for them, he could die for them, he could even love them in his own quiet way, but Thorin knew that he would never be able to give them what Dis and Firnen would have.

And if he died, they would still be taken care of. Dwarves had so few children to begin with that the handful they had were treasured, and every dwarf cared for them as if they were his own. Thorin had seen the children of Men, he had seen the emaciated, fearful waifs out on the streets, orphans and beggars, hungry for food and love and warmth and so much more, and he couldn't understand it. Children were a gift, they were a joy, and yet the Men treated them as outsiders, hurled insults at them, barked at them with rage coloring their tones. In comparison, his sister-sons were immensely fortunate. But even the reminder of the misfortune of others could not lift the weight from his heart, which threatened now more than ever to collapse under all the misery and grief it had been crushed by.

"Wha' about Fiwi?"

"He's coming too," Thorin whispered. "He's coming to say goodbye." _So am I. _

"Then Kiwi go too," Kili decided, suddenly brightening, his eyes sparkling with smiles again. Thorin stared, wondering what had just happened in the infant's mind, before realizing that for Kili, everything Fili did was to be imitated exactly. And chances were that Kili had convinced himself that Fili would not do anything wrong, and therefore nothing was wrong, and he could be as happy as ever because all was right with the world.

As he handed Kili off to Oin, who had come in to change the child's bandages and dose him with medicine before the burial, Thorin would have given anything to be a dwarfling once again.

-:-

The burial grounds were quiet, although masses of dwarves were present, and Thorin led the way into the stone chamber, created within the side of the mountain. The marble was cold and silent, and yet the air felt somehow alive, as if the white stone was breathing softly, prepared to welcome another dwarf into its embrace. _We come from stone, and we leave in stone. _

He was carrying Kili, careful not to jostle the child too much for fear of his injury. Oin had warned him that while it was healing nicely, too much activity could open the wound again or worsen the infection, and it would be best for Kili to stay still – although they both knew that he never would. Was it the right thing to do, to bring a dwarfling so young to his mother's burial? Glancing down, he saw Fili walking by his side, his face set as if carved from the marble surrounding them. Only a few weeks ago he could remember his sister-son laughing, chasing his little brother through the house, both of them sneaking up behind him or Dis to "ambush" them, and he would pretend he hadn't heard their giggles and had been taken by surprise. What he wouldn't give to have those times back now…But come what may, he wouldn't rob his nephews of their last chance to see their mother, and to bid her farewell.

Even Kili had been affected by the somber mood, and instead of chattering away as he usually did, he was strangely quiet, looking around him with interest at the flowers and candles and the mournful dwarves surrounding them, in this unfamiliar place. Suddenly Thorin felt the small dwarfling stiffen, and he turned to see those inquisitive brown eyes staring at Fili, and they were filled with something he hadn't seen there in a long time. Fear. So Kili had finally noticed that his brother was not the same…Thorin bit his lip, watching his older nephew, who had not even realized that he was scaring his little brother. What would this do to their relationship? Kili was too young to understand any of this, would he see the new Fili as a rejection? Was there any way to bring the life back into his heir, or had he forever ruined their chance, slim as it had been, to lead a happy, normal life? He had taken everything from them – their father and uncle had died following him into battle, their mother had died because he had failed to protect her, and today Fili was following them into the darkness. Thorin was already long gone; had they all abandoned Kili to struggle on his own? This tiny dwarfling needed them, and they had left him alone, standing on the edge of a precipice, not knowing where to go.

Thorin had asked Balin to preside over the burial, and he stood there beside the smooth white marble casket, adorned with flowers, far enough back that he could not see inside, reaching down and taking Fili's hand tightly in his own as he held Kili in his other arm. As Balin began to speak, asking Mahal to look after a sister, wife, and mother, asking that she be honored with her husband and the fallen dwarves from the battle at Azanulbizar, that she watch over the ones she had left behind, all Thorin could focus on was how cold Fili's hand was, and how it was trembling in his own. _So small. _They were just so small. How could he have allowed this to happen?

Before he knew it, he was handing Kili to Balin, stepping forward to say goodbye to his sister. To see her face for the last time. Afraid to even peer into the casket, Thorin took a deep breath and closed his eyes momentarily before kneeling down to see Dis, her eyes closed, her forehead encircled by a delicate circlet of diamonds that Firnen had made for her, wearing a deep purple dress that he recognized with a pang. She had worn it on her wedding day, and the day she had lost her husband she had sobbed that she would not wear it again until she joined him. A tear slipped from his eyes, landing in her hair. She looked so peaceful, as if she were just resting, as if he could call her name and she would open her eyes. But he knew better. His baby sister would never wake again. He couldn't really believe it, that she was gone, but slowly it was sinking in that he no longer had a sister, that none of his family was left, that by leaving she had orphaned not only her children but him as well. Unable to speak, he bent forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead, smoothing down her hair before stepping back, willing himself to hold back his tears. Fili and Kili needed him to be there for them, he could mourn later, when he was alone.

Fili came next, and Thorin dimly heard a woman begin sobbing as the young heir to the throne approached his mother's coffin. Knowing that Fili and Kili would be too small to see into a casket placed high, Thorin and Balin had decided to place it in a slight indentation in the ground. Kili would still need to be held to see, but Fili was tall enough, and Thorin pressed his lips together to keep them from shaking as he saw tears wet his sister-son's cheeks, and yet Fili didn't make a sound. He just stood there, trembling, and his mouth moved slowly, mouthing words he lacked the strength to give voice to. _Goodbye, Mum. I love you. _It took another moment for Thorin to realize that Fili couldn't move, not even if he had wanted to, he was frozen in place, disbelief and grief and rage vying for control in his eyes, and in that moment Thorin forced himself to do what his sister-son could not. Dropping to his knees again, he pulled Fili close, holding him tightly as he began to sob, patting him gently on the back before pressing a kiss to his bright hair, which almost seemed to have lost its luster. _Hold on, Fili_, he wanted to say. _I love you. I'm here for you. _But he didn't – couldn't.

Balin came over, sharing a nervous glance with Thorin as he held Fili's hand, guided him away from the coffin, and Thorin took Kili. There was pin-drop silence in that cold marble hall as that baby dwarfling stared, his mouth open, at the lifeless body of his mother, his eyes struggling to comprehend what was before him.

And then it began.

"Mummy!" Kili screamed, thrashing in his uncle's arms as he tried to touch her, because why would she not open her eyes? Why wouldn't she sit up and smile at him? Why was Fili crying? "Mummy! Mummy!"

Dizzy, terrified, at a loss as to what to do, Thorin tried to hush the dwarfling, but the hoarse, petrified screams continued, and suddenly Thorin felt someone pushing his arms aside, and he realized as a flash of sunny hair pressed itself into his vision that Fili had come, was taking his baby brother in his arms, and within moments Kili's screams subsided into loud, horrified sobs as he clung to his brother. Hunching over them, Thorin took them both into his arms, tears trailing down his cheeks and dropping into their hair as he shook with their pain and his own, unable to form a single thought, acknowledging only that fierce need to protect these saplings with his wider, stronger roots and branches. Something he should have done long ago, something he had continuously been unable to do. As if any of this made a difference now. He was too late. Years too late.

At first he didn't hear it, but slowly he realized that the singing had begun, in Khuzdul, a haunting melody of sorrow and loss, but of hope and beauty as well, a lament for the dead. He heard his sister's name, and bowed his head as her eulogy rang out in song, honoring her life and the lives of those she had gone to join, a prayer for her and her young children, robbed of their mother at such a tender age.

He wanted to comfort them, to think of something he could say to make it better, but he would never be able to give them back the parents they had lost, the innocence torn from them, the joy that they might never feel again. Pressing down on him was the fear, that raw, primal fear that they may become the way he was, so damaged and broken, but they were too young, they were just children, and yet he was beginning to understand that he needed them far more than they needed him. Before him, Fili was rocking Kili, tears sliding down both their cheeks, and he knew that more than him, they needed each other. But they were his foundation, his rock, his reason for life.

Kili sniffled softly as the song undulated in exquisite waves of harmony over their heads, and his large eyes found his uncle's. "We go too?"

A blow from an axe could not have been more painful. Fili's eyes widened and he twisted his neck back sharply to stare at Thorin in shock, both of them unable to believe what they had just heard.

"Not now," Thorin said quietly, stroking Kili's hair lightly. "One day."

His lips trembling, Kili curled back into his brother's protective embrace, and Thorin held them both close. Fili had not changed as drastically as he had feared, but what the next days and years held for them, he did not know.

_Watch over them, Dis, _he whispered to her in his mind, unable to shake the feeling that she was standing just behind him, the way she used to stand and watch him with her sons. _I'm sorry, sister. Forgive me. _

She would always be with them, he knew. The kind, nurturing, sweet, loving woman his sister had been would never abandon them. He knew he was facing a lifetime of pain – in every star he saw the twinkle in her eyes, in every daffodil he remembered the fondness for them his brother had harbored, in every green leaf he saw he felt he was staring into his brother-in-law's eyes. Yet these two dwarflings he sheltered in his arms were a part of him too, a less painful part, one that had always brought him back to life, coaxed smiles and laughs from his withered, tortured soul.

He had done so much wrong in his life, he had failed so many of his own kith and kin, yet he must have done something right. Dis had left him to care for and protect her two most precious treasures, she had entrusted him the two most beautiful children he had ever seen. He could only pray that he did better by them than he had by the rest of the ones he had loved.

**A/N: Please leave me a review, I'd love to know what you think! I found this one a bit depressing but now they should be a little lighter again as time passes, although the Durin boys never have it easy. I hope it wasn't too boring, I'm still jetlagged and not exactly sure what I'm doing! Thanks for reading, see you next chapter! As always, I'm open to any questions, comments, or concerns you may have. Thank you! :)**


End file.
